


Tipping the Scales

by Niniva



Series: Pure Evil [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Bad Demons, Bisexual Male Character, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Double Penetration, Eh the DID is kinda part of the shifting though, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Esa has a foul temper, F/M, Good Demons, I HATE HATE HATE Love Triangles, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Light Sadism, M/M, Multi, Novel, Oral Sex, Paranormal, Past Drug Addiction, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Redemption, Shapeshifting, Southern Gothic, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 03:26:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 44
Words: 70,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17779706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niniva/pseuds/Niniva
Summary: Enemies-to-Lovers MMF Erotic Paranormal RomanceGreg Tucker decides to have a little fun at the expense of his closest friend Colt Morgan and discovers the unthinkable.Esa Morgan, his sins too grave for atonement, seeks forgiveness from the person his sadism desires most, Tuck.Edie Caldwell harbors a centuries-old secret of her own, one with a long memory and a lethal temper.While evils converge on Cottonfield, an unyielding lust compels them together. The force of their connection creates a bond stronger than any they've ever known. Together they learn the unsettling truth of their creation and the mysterious deaths that plague blood-drenched Cottonfield, Georgia.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning: Asa was abused physically, mentally, and sexually. Despite both his strong constitution and Edie's effective treatment plan, he gets triggered during this story. He doesn't want his past to hurt anyone; he prefers to hurt them himself.
> 
> Trigger Warning: Non-con blowjob in Chapter 40. I tried hard to make it reach for you but never grab you, but I thought you might wanna know it's there.

 

# 1

Outside the hospital, Tuck shouldered open the passenger door before Colt’s truck stopped rolling. Injured child in his arms, he all but ran into the emergency room.

From behind him Colt pleaded again, “Let me explain!”

Tuck didn’t look back.

Inside he handed the kid to a matronly woman behind the check-in desk. “He’s cut bad.”

Tuck walked away without hearing her question.

Only one solution guaranteed The Cottonfield Reaper could never hurt another kid.

Colt’s truck wasn’t in the emergency lane, so Tuck turned back and followed the arrows to the parking garage. He scoured the rows of parked cars until he found Colt’s primer-gray pickup.

From the pocket of his hoodie, he pulled his snub-nosed .38 cal. Calm fury steadied his hands. No reason to chance a wild bullet from this distance, he edged closer, pistol raised and sights aligned.

The driver’s door opened.

Colt sprinted toward him, his long strides echoing off the cement around them. Either he didn’t see the pistol in the dim garage or he didn’t think Tuck had the balls to pull the trigger.

And he didn’t. Not looking at Colt.

Despite the poor form, Tuck closed his eyes. As he’d practiced a thousand times, he let out his breath while squeezing twice, a measured act of muscle memory alone. His body automatically corrected for the kick from the short barrel.

After the deafening cracks, while his ears rang, he felt rather than heard one footfall. Then another. And then nothing.

Numbness spread through Tuck. The pistol fell from his grasp. Spent powder overwhelmed the exhaust fumes of Colt’s running truck. The air grew still; not even the hair sprouting from Tuck’s goosebumps detected any breeze.

Colt stood no more than five yards from him, staring agape at the crimson stains darkening his stonewashed-blue tee.

Tuck sucked in a breath, tasting Colt’s fresh blood in the air.

It was over.

Colt’s cough caught him off guard. “You don’t understand.” His knees buckled but he didn’t go down.

“You were carving up a kid.” Tuck’s gore rose as the world swam between them. He braced his hands on his knees. “That’s all I need to know.”

While Tuck dry heaved, Colt sucked down a suffocating rasp. “Promise me somethin’.” He stumbled into the bumper of a handicap-accessible van and slid down, landing hard on his ass.

Unable to trust his stomach, Tuck couldn’t strut over and kick Colt in the face for making him kill his closest friend. “Fuck you. I ain’t doing shit to help you.”

Another chuckle, drier, crackly. “It’s too late… to help me. Has been… for a while.” Sucking for air like a goldfish in grass, Colt listed to one side until he toppled to the oil-stained asphalt. “It’ll be… a slaughter.” With another rattling suck of air, he opened his hand to reveal a yellow thumb drive. “Promise me. Help them. The demon can’t…” This time his rasp turned to the crunch of winter leaves. “Prom…”

Alone, Tuck hurled his lunch.


	2. Chapter 2

#  2

“You’ve got a visitor,” Kim Bruer, the nurse, cooed with shallow cheer. “C’mon in, Dee, but don’t push Tuck. If you upset him, Doc Holden will skin us both.” She blanched, as if struck by her own words.

Deputy Marquis Deazy appeared beside Kim. He clasped Tuck’s shoulder but then leaned in for a comforting hug. “How you holding up?”

“Me?” Tuck erupted in laughter. “How’m _I_ holding up? I just shot my best friend dead.” His manic laughter died as quickly as it started. “How you think I’m holding up?”

Without releasing Tuck from his grip, Dee nodded, his dark, basset eyes solemn. “Not so good, I’d imagine.”

“Damned straight, not so good.” Tuck checked the door was closed. “Colt couldn’t be The Cottonfield Reaper. It just isn’t possible. Yet there he was, carving on some little kid like it was the most normal thing in the world.” Tuck stopped to breathe, noticing that his chest ached. “And he kept trying to explain. Fuck me, what possible explanation could there be?”

Dee shook his massive head, radiating a gentle sadness. “Mind if I ask a few questions?”

A snort escaped before Tuck could suppress it. “Yeah, I mind, but you got a job to do, so let’s get this over and done with.” He cringed; Dee hadn’t earned his crap-tastic attitude. “Sorry. Hard day.” Despite his strong urge to cling to Dee and cry his heart out, he fixated on the wall instead, hoping the lack of stimulation might dull the pain.

“Yeah.” The deputy cleared his throat. “Can you tell me exactly what happened?”

“I can. I’d rather not, but I guess I will.”

Dee opened a little spiral-top notebook, pen at the ready.

For a long while, Tuck watched the deputy’s big, brown hands with a hint of ashiness at the knuckles. Back in high school, Dee had been a star running back on the football team. ‘Best hands on the team,’ the coaches had proclaimed, even though Dee had never really cared about sports. All he wanted was to be a cop like his dad.

Three slow taps of the pen against the pad drew Tuck’s attention to the present. Dee stood, relaxed, next to the hospital bed where Tuck sat.

“How to start? I’d planned to scare him.” Tuck barked a humorless laugh at the irony. “I’d just finished my master’s research project for biomedical engineering—a new micro emulsification process to increase bioavailability of cholecalciferol in patients post cholecystectomy.” At Dee’s raised brow, Tuck translated that jumble of words. “Help people get Vitamin D3 after they have their gallbladder out.

“Mom and Dad’s house hasn’t sold, so I thought I’d came home for the rest of Spring Break. I planned to surprise Colt, give him a little jump. So I go sneaking through his house and down to the basement, where Colt’s bedroom is… was… whatever.” He scowled at the plain white wall, willing the knot in his stomach to loosen.

Dee reached down, squeezing Tuck’s arm. “You’re going to get through this.”

Once Tuck felt strong enough, he pointed into thin air as he explained, “His bed’s over here and his gaming stuff’s over here, and he kept a coffee table between them.” He stared through an abstract painting on the wall without seeing it, trying to remember and wishing he couldn’t. “When I cracked his door, he was sitting on the floor, singing that creepy-ass hymn about there being power in the blood and working at something on the table.

“I didn’t know what it was at first. It looked weird. Brown and cream, almost white. And red where he cut. And then the kid took a breath. He wasn’t screaming or nothing. Just lying there, listening. While Colt sang.”

With his heart pounding in his chest, Tuck took a sip of water in hopes of calming. “You know that brown disinfectant, like iodine but soapy?”

“Betadine,” a feminine voice answered from behind the poster-covered door, the word curled with a soft Hispanic accent.

Dee lifted a single finger. He then stalked across the room, yanked open the door, and growled, “You’d best get on, Patty. Don’t think I won’t arrest your ass just because we’re sleeping together.”

“ _Dios mio_ , fine! I’ll come back later for _Señor_ Tucker’s insurance information.” Patty withdrew with a few mild Spanish curses.

Tuck had his doubts. “She might as well come on in. You’re gonna tell her everything anyway.”

“Don’t be like that. I keep my powder plenty dry.” He closed the door. “She don’t need to know every damned thing that happens in this town.”

“Thanks,” Tuck muttered, not certain if he cared.

“Colt was at the coffee table,” Dee prompted.

“Right. I was looking at this kid, and his back was covered in that stuff, and he was so pale. I don’t remember anyone ever being so fucking pale. And there were letters cut in his skin. Deep gouges, _v_ -grooves with curling…” The memory cost Tuck too much, and he shoved it away. “I mean I guess they were letters. Designs maybe.” A sudden, heavy concern struck Tuck. “Is he okay?”

“He?”

“The kid.”

“She’ll be fine.”

“Oh, a girl.” He needed a second to process that fact. “How many does that make?”

“Five.”

“Christ Almighty, I… I never suspected Colt would be The Cottonfield Reaper. He’s just… He’s not that guy, ya know?”

“Yeah, Tuck, I know. Okay, so you saw the girl. What happened next?”

“He put the boxcutter down. And I just stood there. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak; hell, I couldn’t even breathe. He grabbed one of those pencils, like for when you cut yourself shaving?”

Dee nodded, patient. He’d always been so patient. They’d teased him about wanting to be Deputy Dog, but he made a damned fine cop.

“So he takes that thing and stops the bleeding. Like he wasn’t gonna kill her. Like he was being real careful. Takin’ care of her but cutting ribbons out of her. It was fuckin’ surreal.” Tuck pressed his palms into his eyes until starbursts obscured his vision, but the curving lines engraved into the girl’s back continued floating before him. “I… I don’t know. I froze.

“Then he reached for that razor again. I flipped. No way in hell was I watching more of that.”

As the crushing sensation around his heart grew unbearable, Tuck brought a palm his chest. Startled by the treacherous chill of his hand, he jerked it from his warmer flesh with a glare.

“You alright? Want me to get a nurse?”

“No, man, I’m fine. Just gimme a sec.” Slow breaths. In and out. “Yeah, I’m fine.” In and out.

Steady, he continued, “So anyway, I’ve got the kid. She doesn’t say a word, not one word when I snatch her up. Not a single word the whole way here. Did he drug her?”

“Patty didn’t say anything about the girl being drugged. Said she was fine other than the cuts. Maybe a little underweight.”

“Good. I thought, I dunno, I thought maybe he broke her or something.” More slow breaths. “So I’ve got her, but what the hell am I gonna do with her? My car’s at home, and I don’t wanna carry some bleeding little kid a half mile up the road.

“That’s when I remember Colt even exists. Existed. Crap.” When the skin under his nose started to sting, he wiped away the dribble of snot with the back of his hand. “I told him to get his keys. He’s blabbing on and on about let him explain, about ‘This ain’t how it looks.’”

“Can you recall any specifics? Exactly what he said?”

“When he said I had to understand, I remember telling him I’d never understand. After that I shut him down; I didn’t wanna hear it. There’s no excuse, nothing he could say to… to…” _To earn forgiveness._ Yet the words stuck in his throat.

“So did he tell you anything? Anything at all?”

Tuck just shook his head. No, Colt hadn’t said anything, but in his dead palm he’d held that thumb drive. Tuck patted his pocket to be certain it was still right where he’d put it.

A roar passed through the door, followed by a string of curses. “Where’s that murderin’ son of a whore? I’ll rip his heart outta—!”

“Esa!” a woman snapped. That familiar voice belonged to Tuck’s his ex-girlfriend Roxy. “I get it. You’re pissed. But you’re better than that.”

To hear Roxy speak to Colt’s sadistic half-brother Esa with that familiarity cut Tuck to the quick.

Esa snarled with feral rage, “I’m no better than anyone else. Worse than most.”

“Maybe. But now’s not the time.”

Oh, she was good, moving the goalpost until he caved to her way of thinking. Jeez, Tuck knew Roxy could tame tigers if she wanted, but it never occurred to him that she’d take a go at taming Esa.

“If not now, then when?” he demanded with a petulant note.

“Once you’re calm.”

Tuck could picture how she pressed her face to Esa’s chest without hesitation or fear. Of all the fuckers she could fall for, why Esa Bo Morgan?

“Woman—” his rage had dwindled to a spark of menace “—you know the differ’nce ’tween the G-spot and tequila?”

She let out a little gasp of surprise. Her nose always crinkled when something unexpected happened.

“Dudes’ll actually search for tequila.” He chortled at his own lame joke, but his humor didn’t hold. “Let’s go get me drunk.”

With that, the outburst went silent. Though Tuck hadn’t noticed Dee ready for action, he saw the deputy’s hand fall from his pistol’s grip. “Christ, that boy’s a menace.”

Still wide eyed and nervous, Tuck chuckled without humor. “You’re preaching to the choir. Hardly a day went by that he didn’t pound either me or Colt.”

Dee nodded, his sunken eyes adding the appearance of wisdom to his expression. “Yeah. I remember. Gotta admit, I expected him to kill someone long before now.”

“I expected him to kill Colt long before now.”

Dee averted his gaze.

Tuck made a halfhearted swipe at his free-flowing tears. “Christ, why? Why would Colt have done that?”

Dee glared at the door. “He never did anything without a reason.”

“Yeah.” In a futile effort to stifle his sobs, Tuck pressed his face to the coarsely woven hospital blanket. “Yeah. He always had Esa.”

Kim bustled in, her cheer plastered on like a thick layer of makeup. “A little something to help you sleep?”

Tuck nodded. It was all he had the strength to do. Still, only a heartbeat later, he raised his hand eagerly for the pills she offered. “Thanks.”

Dee gave him another squeeze on the shoulder and turned to go.

“So I’m not under arrest?” Tuck didn’t know how to feel about that.

“That’s up to the DA’s office, but I seriously doubt Hightower has any interest in prosecuting this mess.” Then he was gone, leaving Tuck alone with his thoughts.

Surely someone else would need this room in the emergency department soon, but for now he appreciated the safety of the hospital. Esa would find him, of that he had no doubt. Then Tuck would be no less dead than Colt.

 

 

Before Tuck deigned to pry his eyelids apart, he reached into his jeans and kinked his hose to keep from pissing himself. In his rush for the toilet, he thought nothing of his long-time girlfriend sitting at his bedside. That sense of oddness only overcame him as the pressure drained from his bladder.

“Roxy?” he asked as he opened the door.

“Don’t go makin’ this weird,” Esa replied from the far side of the room.

Instinct drove Tuck back. The restroom door swung shut of its own accord.

“Fuck. There he goes, makin’ this weird.  I told ya this was a bad idea when I hatched it.”

“Just sit back down. He’ll be ready to talk soon enough.”

“Yeah, I heard ya when ya said that the first time.”

“Esa.” The firmness of her tone made Tuck wonder precisely what she was doing. Some half-baked therapy from her psychology classes? “You wanted to talk. I put my ass on the line to make that happen. He’s awake. Just spit it out so we can go.”

Those words hit like a physical blow.

“Yes’m.” Soft footsteps approached. “Look, man, I didn’t know. Hell, I didn’t believe ’til I saw for myself.” When another pair of footsteps drew near, Esa cursed softly. “I swear I never knew.” His words kept flowing, a soft litany of profanities and repetition, as if he were putting off the inevitable, until he finally spat out, “Dude, I’m sorry.”

Shit, that was precisely the last thing Tuck had prepared for in this lifetime. “Um. Okay?”

“I mean about everything, dipshit.”

Tuck heard a soft smack, skin against skin. Did she just slap Esa? If so, it wasn’t a humdinger like the only time she slapped him. He touched his jaw, thinking of their last moments as a couple. He shouldn’t have blocked the door, but she shouldn’t have slapped him.

“I mean I’m sorry about everything, not-dipshit. There, better?”

Roxy replied, “This is your rodeo, cowboy. Don’t get yourself gored.”

None of this made any sense to Tuck. That sound had to be a smack on the arm, he decided. _But me gore Esa?_ How in the hell did she think Tuck could hurt that asshole?

“Shit, this is weird.” Esa landed both hands on the door. “She says yer man enough to talk, so open up.”

Tuck swallowed hard. “It doesn’t lock.” Fighting almost two decades of aversion training, he swung the door open. A solid wall of muscle greeted him, two hundred pounds of lean fury. “How’m I supposed to know you’re here to talk.”

“Christ, Tuck, I said I’m sorry. Twict. In all these years, ya ever hear me say that shit b’fore?”

“No.”

Esa stood close enough to kiss. His ice-gray, bloodshot eyes didn’t have the stupor of a drunk man’s. “I loved him ya know.”

“You had a shit way of showing it.”

“Fair enough. I suppose I did.” He thumped a tattooed fist into his own ribs, six solid punches. “I had my whyfors.” His dark, freckled skin had a sallow cast, except for the bruised bags under his eyes.

“Dude, you look like hell.”

Esa stepped back, allowing the foot of the bed to buckle his knees. “I feel like it.”

Feigning disinterest, Roxy occupied in the visitor’s chair, her legs tucked to the side since her feet never reach the ground. She was the same vision she’d always been: blue specks in her brown eyes, nutmeg-brown curls in a wild thicket past her waist, the same three little moles across the bridge of her nose. Her shoulders lifted in a small half shrug, as if to say she had nothing to do with any of this.

Tuck sat on the bed by Esa. He’d never considered, in the entirety of his life, that he’d ever want to talk to Esa Bo Morgan. Yet here he was. “I loved him too. I never…”

“Me neither. Never. Colton? I’d have believed you was reapin’ those kids b’fore Colt.” He snorted. “Hell, I woulda believed I was the Reaper b’fore Colt.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Esa chortled softly.

“I’ve never heard you laugh like that.”

“Bad times.” He paused as if in thought. “Hell, they was all bad times. They was gettin’ better. Until this anyway.”


	3. Chapter 3

#  3

Colt’s truck had been removed from the parking garage by the time Tuck walked out. Not a hint of blood remained, yet he couldn’t help but stare. He half expected Colt’s ghost to stream from the concrete and try to explain himself again.

Over some half-hearted protests by Roxy and some downright begging to take a cab by Tuck, Esa had insisted he and Roxy would give Tuck a ride home. Halfway down the farthest aisle, instead of Roxy’s rust-bucket Taurus, she strutted to the driver’s door of Esa’s faded-mint pickup, a neglected classic with a duct-taped bench seat and a gear shift jutting through the bare floorboards.

Esa opened the passenger door and motioned for Tuck to climb in first. “You sit bitch. She makes me wear a seatbelt.”

Roxy snorted. “I’ll remember that should I wanna make you do something.” She’d already slid the key into the ignition. “It’ll give me hope.”

Her voice sounded just a touch off, her tone distant and husky. A few times a day, everything about her shifted two inches to left, barely enough to notice but enough to trip him up. Tuck never pressed the issue. If right-handed Roxy didn’t favor her left hand when it happened, he would have written it off as his imagination.

He grabbed the doorframe and hoisted himself inside. _Well, this is gonna be awkward._

True to his word, Esa climbed in after him and pulled the frayed seatbelt from the clips over the door.

 _Just how old is this damned thing?_ At least it was old enough to be wide. Not precisely crunched between the lovebirds, there wasn’t any extra space on either side. Roxy jammed the shift into reverse, pressing his knees into Esa.

When the purr of the engine soothed his frazzled nerves, Tuck realized the gas-guzzler’s appeal. By the time they hit the main street, he’d relaxed enough to blurt, “There’s more.” He raised a few inches off the seat and fished in his pocket, squirming against everyone in the process. “Colt had this.” He showed them the thumb drive, a nondescript little chunk of canary-yellow plastic. “I haven’t seen it, but I suspect it’s…” He couldn’t finish the thought, didn’t want to finish the thought.

Roxy glanced up from the road. “Holy shit, you didn’t tell Dee?” That eerie distance no longer tinged her voice.

Shoulder to shoulder to shoulder, he shrugged. “Nobody sees it before I do. But if?” He and Colt had taken that phrase as their own, but now it left him feeling spent.

Esa’s shoulder shifted with his head bob. “Yeah, I’d like to see it. If?”

“I wouldn’t’ve mentioned it if I didn’t think Colt would want you to see it.”

Lost in his own thoughts, Esa nodded again.

At Tuck’s parents’ house, everyone climbed out. They entered by the kitchen. Last updated in ’92, it had linoleum flooring, laminate countertops, and lacquered cabinets, all in cool light grays. Tuck grabbed a padded chair from the dinette and gestured for Esa to do so as well. “Computer’s in the bedroom.” They followed him through the house.

While Esa and Roxy got settled, he opened the thumb drive. “Just two files. This little one’s from today.” He double-clicked it.

Colt appeared on the screen. He looked so much younger than Tuck remembered, yet he sat in the hospital’s parking garage. “I’ve been tryin’ to figure out how to tell ya this for a while, but shit, there ain’t no good way. Look, it’s not how ya think. It’s all — and fuck, you’re headed this way with ya fuckin’ hand cannon. Help us! We hafta stop ’im from gettin’ out — Fuck, don’t shoot me, okay?” With that the screen went black.

Those words landed like a physical blow, but Tuck would be damned before he’d ever let Esa see him cry. Nothing existed but the slow draw of his own breath until he regained enough composure to double-click the second file.

At first the flickering image made no sense. Voices lifted in some morbid, unfamiliar song:

 

_Ah, lovely appearance of death!_

_What sight upon earth is so fair?_

_Not all the gay pageants that breathe_

_Can with a dead body compare._

_With solemn delight I survey_

_The corpse when the spirit is fled,_

_In love with the beautiful clay,_

_And longing to lie in its stead._

 

A hymn?

As they sang, grim reality took hold. Not one figure but many shifted around the kid. One pressed a skinning knife through the child’s back and peeled away the inscribed flesh. A trickle of blood dribbled over the kid’s sides, the flow growing with each stroke. When the first person lifted the freed panel of skin, another stepped in. Then a hand shifted the camera. Tuck made out enough of the background to realize they were in an old church, the child on the altar.

In a voice of gravel and razorblades, Esa whispered, “I know that place.”

“Holy shit,” Roxy gasped with a soft sob.

Unwilling to see more, Tuck ran it back to get a second look at the hand. “Maybe I’m wrong, but I’ve seen that ring. Fuck if I can tell ya where, but I’ve seen it.” A dark stone in a wide setting dominated the frozen frame as the hand passed between the camera and the child. The image quality sucked, as if lit by candles, but he felt certain that stone was blue. Tuck turned to Esa in expectation.

“Old Cottonwood Baptist, see the scrollwork under the bannister?”

Tuck tried to make it out, but he’d take Esa’s word on that.

Roxy asked, “So what now?”

Esa let out a low whistle. “We need a ringer, maybe a priest. Y’all know any Catholics?” When no one replied, he asked, “Okay, how ’bout that ol’ windbag at Highwater Methodist?”

“Wesley? I don’t think Reverend Ross is up to taking down some satanic cult.” Tuck slumped forward to pluck the thumb drive from the USB port, then slid it back into his pocket. “Dee. He’d know what to do.”

“That Uncle Tom don’t know shit.” If Esa noticed Tuck’s and Roxy’s glares, he didn’t show it.

That made Tuck again wonder about Esa’s heritage. Too dark to be white, too light to be black, the bigger man didn’t seem to be Hispanic either. His mother was half Chippewa and half Dutch, from somewhere up north. His father was anyone’s guess.

Esa continued, “This ain’t no Satanic cult. ’Least not like the one out at Stone Table. They chant some shit, kill a baby goat, then party like there’s no tomorrow.”

Roxy informed him, “A baby goat’s a kid.”

“Think I don’t know that? I’m tellin’ ya, this is differ’nt. This is real. Cops ain’t got no idea how to handle real shit.”

Deep in thought, Tuck strummed his left hand across the keys without typing anything. “Neither do I. And I’m tellin’ ya neither does Wesley.”

“Fine.” Esa turned his glare to Roxy. “Tie breaker?”

“Oh, no way in hell am I stepping into that steamin’ pile. Do neither, do both, but leave me outta it.” She glared at them, daring either to contradict her.

Esa shoved a hand toward Tuck. “Both?”

“Sure. Why the hell not? Both it is.”

They shook on it.

“Now go away.” Utterly spent despite his little nap, Tuck stood and stretched. “I’ve gotta sleep… if I can.”

“Yeah.” Roxy waivered as she got to her feet. “I don’t feel safe to drive.”

Esa reached out for the keys. “ _No problemo, chica_. I got this.”

“You’ve been drinking.”

“Me? I’m sober as a judge on Monday.”

“Doesn’t mean I’ll ride with you.”

“Oh, I see how it is.” Esa chuckled, that familiar sadistic glint in his eye. “Havin’ some frisky feelin’s? Well, by all means.” He bowed with a grand sweep of his arm toward Tuck.

Roxy’s glare turned deadly. “Christ, Esa, just shut the hell up.”

Tuck sighed. “Take the parents’ room. I don’t care what you do, just let me fall over.”

“Ya sure ’bout that, little guy? I’m fully erect and ready to wreck.”

Roxy hid her face behind her hand. “How about I take the bed and you take the couch? That sound good?”

“Good enough.” Esa snickered. “For now.”

Tuck’s soul ached, and he needed this day to be over. “Just get out.” He flopped on the bed. “And don’t break anything with your prodigious skills.”

Esa’s retreating laughter sounded lighter, gentler than Tuck expected. “Yer alright, kid. Hell, I reckon ya always was. I’m the one who was fucked.”


	4. Chapter 4

#  4

A dark figure appeared before Tuck, draped in ratty ebony feathers and reeking of death. Patchy, greasy flesh revealed the pale-gray bones beneath, including the bird skull perched atop its spine. “Mourning your friend?”

A single feather tickled down his face, and Tuck let out a shriek.

He bolted upright in bed and flipped on the light. His lungs seized as he panted for more air.

Moments later, Roxy asked from the doorway, “You okay?”

He drew a deeper breath. “Yeah. Just a weird dream. Damned birdman touched me.”

Over her shoulder, Esa eyed him like some wayward fungus on a petri dish. “If that’s weird, I’d hate to see pants-shittin’ terrifyin’.”

Curiosity got the better of him. “Dude, what is your fuckin’ problem?” The question came out all wrong, but damn, Esa wasn’t right in the head by any stretch of the imagination.

“I wasn’t smacked enough as a kid. Well, maybe a gram or two to help me sleep.”

“You do realize that makes you sound like a needle junkie?” Roxy ran the heel of her palm over the furrow between her brows, before informing Tuck, “If he wanted you to know, he’d tell you.”

Tuck sat up straighter. “You mean you know?”

“Yes, I know, and no, it’s none of your business. Now let it lie.”

“Fine. Crap.” He checked the alarm clock: 4:58, later than he’d expected.

Esa’s gaze bore into the age-dulled wallpaper. His words bubbled up as if from the bottom of a well. “Fucker hurt me. Said I’d do the same. That’s all you need to know.” He turned and disappeared into the darkness.

Roxy’s exasperation spoke volumes, mostly a fat tome about how Tuck had fucked up again. Once Tuck had squirmed enough, she asked, “Is there anything for breakfast?”

“Same as there ever was, presuming you feel like cooking. Otherwise it’s toast and coffee.”

“Coffee’s on,” Esa called from the distance. “Bacon up for grabs?”

“Sure, go for it.” Tuck shivered from his drying sweat. “I’m headed for a shower, so try to keep him from burning down the house.”

“I heard that,” Esa replied.

“Good.”

Tuck got to his feet. He grabbed his Sunday best and pushed past Roxy. He’d known nothing would ever be the same, but he’d never imagined this domestic scene in his future. He needed a break. Hell, he needed the world to stop spinning so he could catch his breath, but he was fairly certain that wasn’t happening anytime soon.

By the time he finished his shower and reached the kitchen, he felt almost human again.

Roxy sat placidly watching while Esa tossed a pan of biscuits in the oven. He knocked the oven door closed with his hip before turning the bacon and then the eggs on the front burners. Tuck hadn’t bought any biscuits, which meant… Sure enough a large bowl caked with flour soaked in the sink.

“I can’t tell you what decade Mom bought that flour.”

Esa’s shoulders bobbed as he took a sip of coffee. “Don’t matter. No bugs, no mold.” The way he grinned made Tuck realize his mouth hung open. “Maybe ten on the biscuits. Grab some coffee and have a seat.”

“I never touch the stuff, just kept it on hand for Roxy.”

“Yer loss. Yer parents enjoyin’ the Florida life?”

“The beach suits ’em. The gator in the marsh out back? Not so much.”

Roxy gave Tuck a once over. “You’re planning to actually attend services?”

“It’s Sunday. Where else would I find Reverend Ross?”

“I assumed we’d talk after services. Though I still have that little black dress in the back of—”

“You two can shove it up yer ass!” Esa lifted bacon onto a plate lined with paper towels. “No way.”

Roxy’s laugh floated like a chime. “Oh, you know you’ll do it just to see the right reverend shit his pants.”

“Was she always this good at manipulatin’, or does my natural charm bring it out in her?”

“I secretly called her the tiger tamer.”

“Oh?” Roxy’s eyebrows lifted to her hairline. “Since when?”

“Since maybe twelve hours ago.”

Esa’s whoop of amusement left no question as to whom he thought won that bout. “Score one for the men, Tiger Tamer!” He scooped eggs onto three plates. “Just to amuse ya, doll, sheerly for yer own enjoyment, I’ll do it. Provided someone’s got some fancy duds. I ain’t goin’ like this.” He smacked a puff of flour from his black Venom tee in emphasis.

“Check Dad’s closet. His stuff should be tall enough, maybe a tad tight across the chest.”


	5. Chapter 5

#  5

Every single parishioner stopped at the back pew to offer Esa their condolences. Or perhaps to goggle the killer and the brother sitting to either side of a pretty woman. Not a single person mentioned their surprise, but they all had a stunned glaze dulling their expressions.

The delay gave Tuck time to second guess their decision. If he hadn’t been exhausted, he would never have agreed to this stupid idea. Reverend Wesley Ross cut an unimposing figure. Tall and reedy, a stiff breeze could snap the man in half.

When the last parishioners had satisfied their curiosity, Reverend Ross abandoned his post at the door. “My sincerest condolences, Mr. Morgan. Your brother is sorely missed. May I presume you are here to make final arrangements?”

“Final arrangements?” Esa stared as if the thought of his brother’s funeral never passed through his mind. “Yeah, maybe we should; Colt woulda liked that.”

“You have other concerns?”

Esa checked that no one lurked nearby. “Colt got in some serious sh-stuff. I thought maybe…” Apparently that was as far ahead as Esa had prepared.

Tuck let out a sigh. “Colt wanted me to do something, and we thought it might be a bright idea to have some help. From a man of the cloth, I mean. It’s not something that needs consecration or anything, just everyday evil, th—”

Esa growled. “I done told ya, it ain’t ever’day evil.”

“We hoped you’d lend a hand,” Tuck finished.

Reverend Ross unleashed a flurry of tiny head bobs. “I see, I see.” He stopped to stroke his chin, creating an air of deep thought. “Mr. Tucker, correct?”

“Yeah, er, yes.”

“Well, Mr. Tucker, my concern is the souls of men.” He turned to Roxy. “And of course, women as well, Miss Caudwell.” At her forgiving nod, he continued, “The Methodists help individuals eschew evil. We don’t precisely go out and find evils to fight. Still, if there’s anything I can do, I’ll be glad to help.”

“Sir, Colt was part of a cult or something. He asked me to stop them.”

“Surely that falls under the province of the sheriff’s office, Mr. Tucker. I’m certain Sheriff Penbrook or Deputy Deazy will be glad to assist you.”

Tuck flushed brilliant scarlet. “That’s what I said.”

“Now, Mr. Morgan, Colton’s funeral?”

“Funeral? Uh, yeah.” Esa glanced around as if this entire discussion had spun beyond his comprehension. “How much?”

“Any donation is appreciated, but most families donate between a hundred fifty and three hundred.”

Brow creased, Esa mumbled numbers with no apparent relation, then stood. A fraction shorter than Reverend Ross, he glared into the man’s eyes and puffed his chest. “I’ll be hard press’t to get the bastard cremated. I’ve burned enough of your time, and vice versa. So fuck off.” With that he stalked out the door.

With a tiny, apologetic smile, Roxy hurried after him.

Tuck burned with humiliation. “Sorry about that. If I’d thought for a—”

Reverend Ross waved him off. “There’s no need to apologize, Mr. Tucker. Colton was a member of my flock. I know what to expect from his brother.”

“Sure. Alright.” Tuck struggled to place the prickling, anxious sensation that crept up his spine. “Esa’s been acting strange.”

“He’s mourning. We all mourn strangely.”

 _He’s been almost nice. Until just now._ “I’d best catch up. Thanks again, reverend.” Outside, he asked Esa, “What was that about?”

“Just a feelin’.” He patted his pockets as if searching for the cigarettes he’d given up again. “A bad feelin’.”

Roxy rolled her eyes. “Like being told no?”

“Prob’ly.” He scanned the parking lot. “Tom Pritchett!” When the old number-cruncher turned, Esa mimed smoking.

Tom approached and greeted Esa with a hug, blowing smoke over his shoulder. “Baby boy! It’s good to see you.” He tried to pull back, but Esa clung to the bony old man who patted between his shoulder blades. “I heard, son, I heard. It’s gonna be alright. Even if Colt did something awful, it’s okay to miss him. Okay to love him.”

“I tried…”

“I know.”

Tuck had never known jealousy until Esa broke down bawling. Sniffling with some dignity, he watched a pair of turkey buzzards circle the blazing sun overhead.

 

 

“Screw Deputy Dog; just head for Cottonfield Baptist,” Esa announced as he beat a freshly-purchased pack of cigarettes against the dash.

Roxy sighed. “I thought we decided both.”

“I ain’t goin’ through that again. Fuck it. We can go or I’ll go it alone.”

Tuck asked, “No one care what I think?”

Esa lit up, inhaled deeply, then exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Not really.”

The stench of burnt tobacco washed over Tuck despite the open windows. “Then I guess it’s good I agree. But I gotta change.”

Roxy grimaced, rubbing a finger between her heel and her shoe. “Yeah, me too.”

By one o’clock, with everyone dressed in jean shorts, tees, and tennis shoes, she pulled from her driveway and headed for the old church.

As they bounced along another back road, she asked, “Why’s Cottonfield Baptist abandoned anyway?”

“Some Klansman lynched the preacher in ’87,” Esa replied.

Tuck scowled. “We didn’t have lynchings around here and certainly not in ’87.”

“Sure. Believe what ya want. Dixie Mafia didn’t care for Reverend Franklyn’s brand of brimstone. Put out a hit. Parker Knowles took ’em up on it.” Esa flicked the ash from his cigarette out the wide-open window.

“What?” Tuck couldn’t wrap his mind around such a thought. “His wife, Nona, is the blackest woman in three counties.”

“So he has a little jungle fever. Don’t mean he ain’t a pointy-hatted freak.”

“How would you know?” Tuck asked.

Esa grinned. “Like Yogi Bear said, ya can see a lot just by listenin’.”

“I’m beginning to think I liked you better when you were beating the crap outta me.”

“Hey, it kept me from hurtin’ ya, didn’t it?”

“Hurt bad enough from this side.”

“Fuck you. That wasn’t hurt, just scared.”

“Fuck you! You broke my nose! And what about Colt’s ribs. Took six months before he could cough without—!”

The truck jerked to a halt. “Fuck you both. If you want to fight, get out. I don’t want to hear it.”

Before Tuck could form a witty reply, the circular pendant on her necklace caught his eye. It was horrid, a birdman covered in feathers and gore, but his hand reached for it anyway. “That’s something from a nightmare.” _From my nightmare._

“Hey, I like it.” She held it out for him. “Kim Bruer gave it to me.”

Tuck slid a finger across the slick image. “The nurse?”

“Kinky Kim?” Esa asked, reaching for the pendant as well. “I didn’t know ya swung that way, but ya got good taste. Damn, she’s amazin’ in the sack.”

“Oh, my god, you are _such_ an ass.” She jammed the truck back in gear in a huff.

When Tuck’s bare leg bumped Esa’s, a searing wave of lust cut through Tuck’s body, making his head swim in ecstasy. Tuck jerked up straight and glued his eyes to the road. Uncomfortable in his skin as well as his shorts, he buried that thought. He’d never been so relieved as when Esa and Roxy jumped out of the cab at the old church.

Tuck slid from the cab. Despite the gravel crunching under his feet, tufted grass tickled up his legs. White daisies and blue bachelor’s buttons studded the parking area.

The small church hadn’t fared well against the ravages of time. Some of the tin had blown off the roof. Not a single window remained, victims of BB guns and rocks most likely. Tendrils of kudzu forced their way through the slated siding, exposing the interior even more. It’d be a miracle if they didn’t fall through the floor.

Esa, ignoring the obvious danger, pushed open the front door, then disappeared inside.

“Roxy, wait up.” Tuck hurried to her side. “Be careful in there. Don’t step anywhere except the nails in the floor.”

“Really?” Heat spread across her cheeks and under that enticing yet disgusting pendant. “Tuck, stop it. I know what a floor joist is. I’ve lived on this planet as long as you have, dumbass.” She stomped away without another word.

“Christ, I was just trying to help.”

“You’re the most oblivious jackass I’ve ever met,” she replied without turning back.

Tuck stood in the parking lot until the spike of his temper dulled.

When he neared the door, the sickly-sweet, metallic odor of rancid blood overwhelmed him. Inside, the place had fallen to shambles. The dozen pews to either side of the aisle sat cockeyed. Shards of glass glittered in the faint, dappled light. Leaves and splintered wood littered the floor, leaving the joists hard to spot. He had to test each step before trusting that it would hold his full weight.

Esa and Roxy stood at the altar, silent. The entire time it took him to pick his way forward, they never moved. Upon reaching them, he understood why.

 

**You Know Not What You Do**

 

Those words, engraved in the altar, left ice in Tuck’s veins.

Eons passed before Esa muttered, “Fuck it; bring on Deputy Dog. Dee’s welcome to this shit.”


	6. Chapter 6

#  6

Feeling only slightly safer in his own living room, Tuck asked no one in specific, “How the hell did they know we were coming when we didn’t?”

Esa sat hunched, elbows to knees, on the coffee table. “You sure you didn’t tell Dee nothin’?”

“Colt’d never forgive me if Patty told the whole town what was on that drive before I even got the chance to look. I barely let myself think about it while he was there, afraid he’d know I was holding out.”

Esa turned to Roxy. “Caweeta, ideas?”

 _Caweeta?_ Tuck watched them in confusion.

“Nope.” She moved her hair from her eyes with her left hand.

Esa took one glance at Tuck, and his jaw went slack. “He don’t know?”

She scowled. “Well, he does now, doesn’t he?”

“Know what?” Tuck definitely didn’t know what the hell they were talking about.

“Ya girlfriend’s got two personalities.”

“My girlfriend? Your girlfriend,” Tuck corrected. Slow realization crept over Tuck: that change in Roxy had a name.

“Y’all broke up? That sucks. Explains why I was sleepin’ on the couch though.”

“So y’all aren’t an item?”

“Oh, hell nah.” Esa could barely contain his mirth. “She’s helpin’ with my diabetic beehive oral fixation.”

“Two years of dialectic behavioral therapy, proof of concept for my master’s thesis.” Roxy enunciated the words too crisply, gesticulating with her left hand. “Investigating the truth of our opinions.”

Tuck wished someone would turn down the bass drum thumping between his ears. “How? I mean you’re two people?”

Roxy shrugged with a toothy grimace. “I doubt I’m a person at all. I just mimic Roxy.”

“And that’s an opinion?” Tuck shook his head, hoping to force his thoughts to settle.

She blinked at him as if it should be obvious. “Someone seems to think so.”

“And you never told me?”

“It never turns out well when anyone catches on. Though I guess it’s too late to worry about that now.”

“I’ve, I’ve, I’ve gotta take a shower.”

As he brushed past Roxy or Caweeta or whoever, she reached for his hand. Her touch burst with such electrified lust that he groaned aloud and tossed his head back.

She must have felt the same because in less than a heartbeat her hands were everywhere. Then they roamed across his flesh in far too many places for just two hands, but he couldn’t have cared less.

Eyes screwed tight, he pushed aside cloth to feel the living flesh beneath. Wonder ravaged through his thoughts, demanding sensation, demanding touch, demanding carnal knowledge of anything in its path.

His shorts fell from his waist. Hard lips pressed against his own while softer ones fluttered against his chest. With a fist in his hair and an arm supporting his back, Tuck fell to the couch before smaller hands pulled him to the floor atop Roxy.

Kneeling between her legs, he bit her nipple through her tee.

While he fought the urge to bite harder, she commanded through clenched teeth, “Fuck us.”

“Yes.” Overwhelmed by the sparks from Esa’s chest pressed against his back, he thrilled at the sensation of her flesh opening for him, taking him. “Oh, yes.”

“Just once.” Esa nipped Tuck’s neck at his shoulder. “Just once, so I know I won’t hurt ’im.”

Before the meaning of those words could penetrate the fog in Tuck’s mind, the reality overwhelmed him in a burst of fire that dimmed to a pleasant ache. Caught between them, he knew nothing outside the waves of pleasure strumming through him. Their bodies moved like shifting sands, lost to the all-consuming desire for more.

They stumbled toward the master bath for that shower, a trail of shed clothing in their wake. Roxy unclasped her necklace. The instant she let it drop on the counter between the sinks, reality crashed around them.

They stared at each other. All three turned as one to gawk at the pendant.

Tuck backed away from the heinous thing until his heel hit the far wall. “What the everlovin’ fuck? And I do mean fuck.” With his emotions as stunned as his thoughts, his mouth opened and closed a half-dozen times in the effort to form some protest until he blurted out, “No offense, Tiger, but I don’t swing that way.”

Esa’s chest heaved with great gulps. “I think I like this thing.” He picked it up and reached toward Roxy, who stood mesmerized like a deer in headlights. Before Tuck could get close enough to coldcock him, he’d already refastened the abomination around her neck.

Tuck couldn’t help himself. He joined them, flicking his tongue across one glistening chest, then the other, savoring the mingle of salt and oil. His craving for them obliterated rational thought. His spirit demanded shameless devotion to this strange new union. No other possibility remained.

When a searching hand ran up his chest, Tuck no longer cared who guided it, for Roxy and Esa were his now.  When crushing fingers ripped into his shoulder, his gasp bore as much pleasure as pain.

Esa yanked the amulet from Roxy’s throat. “Get out. Get out! Run, dammit!”

Shocked, as if splashed with cold water, Tuck hardly registered the words. Roxy grabbed his arm and yanked him along behind her. They were in the bedroom barely a heartbeat later.

The bathroom door slammed behind them. “I’ve never wanted to hurt anyone b’fore now.”

“Coulda fooled me.” Yet Tuck noted his bruising. Esa had been a hair’s breadth from ripping chunks free in a dozen places.

“Ya got no idea.” The sounds behind the door turned guttural and harsh, like the battle snarls of stags in rut. After a final desolate cry, the world went quiet save for the soft pants on both sides of the door.

The faucet turned on for a moment. Then Esa stumbled out of the bathroom, far worse for the wear. He glared at the amulet in his hand while he swiped the back of his free hand over the corner of his mouth. “Got a hammer?”

“Wait!” Roxy, no, Caweeta raised her left hand to halt him. “Don’t shatter it! You’ll release the whole thing at once! Put it in something metal until we find someone to dispel it.”

Long beyond questions, Tuck headed for the garage and returned with the silver jewelry box his mother had always hated and likely forgot to pack on purpose.

“Yeah, that should do it.”

When Tuck opened the container, Esa dropped the charm inside. “Rot in hell, ya little bastard.” He reached toward Tuck’s shoulder but let his hand drop. “Christ almighty, if Roxy hadn’t taken that off for those few seconds, I’d have killed ya both, ripped ya to shreds.”

Tuck glanced toward Esa. He hadn’t intended to check out the other man’s equipment, but the small, torn bruises twisted his gut. “What the hell?”

“Had to get that urge outta me. Had to be done.” Esa glanced down. “Though I’da preferred bein’ a tad more relaxed at the time.” He flopped to the rug, lay back, and let his feet brace on the topmost dresser drawer. “I thought myself evil most my life, but now that I’ve seen evil, real evil? I ain’t nothin’ but a scared kid.”


	7. Chapter 7

#  7

By the time Dee rang the bell, the trio had pulled together a presentable façade.

Tuck opened the door. “Glad you’re here. It’s been a hell of day.”

“So I see.” He glanced to Roxy and Esa. “Rumor had it y’all were hanging, but I sure didn’t believe it until I saw it.” Then his stare drilled into Tuck. “Roll the truck or something?”

“Or something.” Tuck barely ushered the deputy inside before thrusting the thumb drive at him. “I know I should have given this to you sooner, but I had to know what was on it. Now I wish like hell I didn’t.”

Dee reached for the drive.

When Tuck glanced to their hands, Dee’s ring indeed had blue stone. He coughed to cover his gasp. “Can I get you some coffee or something?” _Anything so I can go get my head together?_

“Sure. Sounds great.”

Tuck scrambled for the kitchen. He paced in starts and fits as his mind raced. _Stay cool, stay cool, stay cool._ He grabbed the coffee canister, glad to realize it was empty. “Outta coffee, take a raincheck?”

“Sure, man, sure. Look, I have to go. But let’s do something sometime.”

Tuck came to the kitchen door. “Sounds great. ’Til then?”

“Yeah, man, ’til then.”

“Hey?” Tuck called.

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t watch much of the second one. Just enough to know I needed to call ya.” Crap, too on the nose!

Dee waved. “Sounds like I’d best go watch this now. Y’all have a good night.”

All three mumbled, “You too,” as the door closed behind him.

Even after counting to a hundred, Tuck wasn’t certain Dee was safely gone. So he started over from one.

Esa asked, “Y’all saw that, right?”

“Yeah.” Tuck’s answer came out breathless.

“Us too,” Roxy replied. “And Caweeta isn’t happy. She gets a little… stabby when I’m in danger.”

With a slight shift in stance, she added, “Hey, can’t have anybody damaging my ride.” With Caweeta’s voice and manners so distinct from Roxy’s, how had he not known?

Tuck asked, “Y’all think he noticed?”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Esa assured him. “Three people staring at his hands? Deputy Dog has smelled a bunch of shit in his life; he knows we ain’t feedin’ him a line of flowers.”

“Time to hit the road.” Caweeta turned to Esa. “Where’s the Klan meet?”

“The Klan?” Tuck asked, horrified.

“Can you think of anywhere Dee will be less keen to follow us?”

“I… I guess not.”

“Just trust me, we’ll be fine. My da was in the Detroit branch back in 20s.”

Esa shifted from foot to foot before replying, “Off Old Wire Bridge. Some ratty campers down in the swampland. All the better for burnin’ crosses. Or the occasional brown guy. This ain’t ya daddy’s Klan, _chica_. They’re more into quick cash than the honor of the Aryan race.”

“Grab what you need.” Her head tilted to the side as her smile turned cold. “Roxy and I are leaving in five, with or without you.”

 

 

Roxy cut the engine. All that remained of the rutted, single-lane road ahead was a foot path, barely visible in slanted patches of late afternoon sun. “You’re sure this is it?”

“Yeah. The back-way in.” Esa had already slid out the door. “But I don’t know if it’s booby trapped.” He took a moment to study the trees. “Too bad there aren’t more pines. Fallen needles catch on tripwires.”

Tuck climbed into the truck bed to help Roxy stash the groceries in their backpacks. “I usually pack a fishing pole for camping trips…” By the time they had the water bottles distributed, he had an idea. “She won’t like this, but what about Roxy’s hair? Tie some to a stick, and—”

“Perfect,” Caweeta replied, already braiding a thin strand.

“What do you mean, ‘Perfect’?” Roxy gasped, unbraiding it just as quickly.

With her left hand smacking the right one away, Caweeta asked, “You want a boulder dropped on our pretty little noggin?”

“No.”

“Alright then. Sacrifice a little for a lot.”

Once they were weighted down like pack mules, Esa took the lead, skimming ahead of them with the narrow braid. He pointed out two tripwires low over the trail as they progressed. Their slow pace meant the sun hung fat and orange at the horizon before the run-down campers came into sight.

“Shit!” Esa yelped as the woods filled with the cacophony of BBs falling into aluminum cans. “An alarm.” He barked out a laugh. “Just an alarm.”

Not a minute later, the distinct _chunk-chink_ of someone racking a shotgun thrust Tuck’s heart into his throat.

“ _¿_ _Qué estás haciendo aquí?_ ” The disembodied voice seemed to come from nowhere.

“We’re…” Esa turned just his shoulders to Roxy. “What are we doin’ here?”

“We’re seeking sanctuary. _Estamos buscando santuario._ ” Caweeta enunciated the phrase like a Spaniard.

Esa added, “Yeah, what she said.” Then he leaned forward. “Miguel, that you?”

“Esa? _Mi amigo!_ _Dios mio,_ I’m glad it’s chu. These fuckers make me _nervioso_.”

“Ya ain’t just whistlin’ Dixie. ‘What are we doin’ here?’?” Esa scoffed. “What are _you_ doin’ here?”

“Eh, seems La Fuerza del Norte are a bit short on a molly shipment. Seems they think I have _los demás_.”

“Do you have the rest?”

“For chu, _pequeñin_ , I got whatever chu want.” A Hispanic Paul Bunyan wrapped one saw-log arm around Esa. “Where chu been? Ain’t seen chu in months.”

“Been clean.”

“ _Qué pena._ Well, bad for me. Good for you.” He turned chinquapin eyes to the rest of the party. “So, ain’t chu gonna introduce me to the _mujer bonita_ and the _gato asustadizo_?”

“The pretty lady is Roxanne Caudwell.”

“ _Encantado de conocerte_. Call me Roxy,” she replied.

Miguel bowed and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “The pleasure is mine _._ ”

“An’ the fraidy cat here’s…” Esa turned, his brow furrowed deeply. “What the fuck is yer name anyway?”

“No one calls me Gregory Dean except my momma.” He stuck out his hand. “Everyone calls me Tuck.”

“Pleasure to meet chu, Tuck.” After their handshake, Miguel beckoned with several grand sweeps overhead. “Come, come. Let me show chu where to dump those bags. Looks heavy.”


	8. Chapter 8

#  8

While the foil packets of Miguel’s dinner cooked over the campfire, Tuck stirred the coals with a stick from a black tupelo. Stinging tendrils of damp hardwood smoke dragged him back to every camping trip of his youth: long weekends and whole chunks of summers celebrated under thick, wooded canopies or star-encrusted open skies with Colt.

On the far side of the floating sparks, Esa dropped into a battered lawn chair. “Mexican’s’re Catholic, right? We need a priest.”

Miguel’s head shot up, his eyes wary. “Sorry, _mijo_ , I’m evangelical. No Jews, no Catholics, law of the land. Law of _esta tierra_ , anyway. Might could scare up an icon to some narco-saint. Jesús Malverde? Chu want a priest, chu gotta head to town, maybe even _la ciudad_. What the hell chu want a priest for anyway?”

Esa groaned, a sound of pure desolation. “I got a text… Christ, was it really last night? The night before?” He pinched the bridge of his nose before running his thumbs across his cheekbones. “Colt’s dead.”

“ _A quien Dios quiere para si, poco tiempo lo tiene aqui._ Our Good Father must have needed _el_ _niño_ for his own reasons. My heart aches for your loss. Chu thinkin’ last rites or somethin’?”

Head down and shoulders slumped, deep sadness radiated from Esa as he shook his head.

“What happened?”

“Tuck shot ’im.”

Miguel leaned back in his chair to watch the fire for a long moment. “It takes a wise man to forgive insults and forget grievances. Chu never been _un niño sabio_.”

Content to let Esa tell the story, Tuck turned over the conundrum of two gentle souls, Colt and Dee, men he loved, trusted with his life and more, hurting and then killing children. The Cottonfield Reaper wasn’t just one great guy but several? His mind rejected the idea from every direction Tuck approached it.

“—next thing I know, I’m the pitcher and he’s the catcher—”

That remark caught Tuck’s attention. “You were the one back there pumping away like a bitch with a strap-on.”

“Yer just mad ’cause ya liked it.”

The last straw landed. Tuck surged through fire and food to land a blow at Esa’s temple that knocked him and his chair sprawling. Agony radiated up Tuck’s arm. As his breath snagged, he bent double to cradle his hand against his chest.

Esa towered over him. At least Tuck could count on the bigger man to make his death quick.

“Hurts like a bitch, don’t it?” He pulled Tuck’s hand forward with gentle insistence. “I shoulda taught you and Colt not to lead with yer pinkies. See this shit?” He held out his own hand to show a pinky joint jammed almost to his wrist. “Roxy, some ice?”

Caweeta answered, “Do I look like a nursemaid?”

“Yer sittin’ on Miguel’s cooler.”

“Oh.” She began rummaging.

“Here,” Esa said as he stripped off his shirt, “wrap it in this.” He tossed it to her. Then he pressed along the length of the small bone until Tuck let out a yelp. “I’d always known you and Colt would buck eventually. Welcome to manhood, kiddo.” A single drop of dampness hit Tuck’s wrist. “Miguel, I got a benji in my pocket. Whatever he wants. It’s his party.”

By the time Esa straightened up, his smirk had fallen back into place. “Like my gramma always said, if life was fair, Elvis would still be rockin’.”

Miguel recovered his wits and let his giant ham of a hand drop from his mouth. “Name your poison, _mijo_. I got some white-boy coke? Maybe chu wanna ride the white horse instead of the white pony? Hell, if it’s a party, I got plenty of molly.”

Tuck winced as Esa wrapped the shirt around his hand. “A beer maybe?”

“ _¿Cerveza? ¿Una?_ ” Miguel squeezed out a chortle. “ _Una cerveza,_ he says!” Then he laughed in earnest. “No, _mijo_ , I got no _cerveza_. How ’bout some tequila? No!” He gasped and raised a single finger in sudden inspiration. “No, I got it. Pure ethanol from the lab.”

“Lab?” Tuck’s ears perked up at this news.

“Yeah, these _naco_ -rednecks cook their own meth. I import their pseudoephedrine when I make the Force of the North runs. At least until that little mix-up with upper management. But a little molly and the locals let me stay here until it gets sorted. If nothin’ else they say they’ll gladly ship me outta the country. There’s really _Confederados_ down in Brazil square-dancin’ and sippin’ mint juleps?”

“Hell if I know.”

Caweeta let out her too-low chuckle. “I’d guess they’re still down there. Dom Pedro was mighty keen to take in cotton and sugarcane growers. And slave holders to boot? He couldn’t have been happier.”

Miguel scratched his head while that strange bit of trivia sank in. “Always thought of America as a place people come to, not leave. Now I wish I knew Portuguese.”

“The lab?” Tuck prompted.

“Far trailer. I keep expectin’ it to explode.”

Tuck made three steps before a hand engulfed his biceps.

“What chu got in mind?”

“Not sure yet. Maybe a bomb.”

“No, _mijo_ , I can’t let chu do this Let’s not piss off our _patróns_ , yeah?”

With formulas for explosives still dancing behind his eyes, Tuck turned back toward the fire.

Two black forms dropped from the sky. One massive bird grabbed the foil packet with Miguel’s rabbit, which Tuck had knocked from the fire. Then they were gone with a few soft flaps of their expansive wings.

Miguel raced forward, shaking both fists overhead in protest. “Come back here, _pendejos_! That was _mi cena_!”

Everyone else stared dumbfounded at the spot where the buzzards had landed as if their absence in the present disproved their presence in the past.

Esa commented, “That was the perfect ending for today.”

“Vultures steal _mi cena_ , and chu think it’s _perfecto_? Chu don’t need no priest; chu need a _brujo_. And a priest. And maybe one of them Santería _babalawos_.”

“Know any?” Caweeta asked.

“Oh, hell no.” Miguel emptied the remaining coffee from his toppled percolator. “I keep my nose out of that _tonterías_.”

Tuck couldn’t let the idea go that easily. “You know anybody who might know someone? I want that necklace gone.”

“ _Patero el Cubano_.” Miguel grimaced, displeased with this idea. “Seems _El Queso Grande_ of La Fuerza del Norte expected his youngest daughter Isbet to die _la virgen_. Seems I stole the honor of a thirty-year-old _mujer_. I thought he was taking my hair.”

At Tuck’s blank stare, he amended, “That must be the Spanish one — pulling my leg. I thought he was pulling my leg. But no, seems he wants me _muerto_.”

Roxy asked, “Wouldn’t she be just as likely to know a priest?”

Miguel pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped the screen a few times. “No bars. How ’bout we call _mañana_? Tonight, let us forget all of this.”

Tuck asked, “Eat, drink, and be merry?”

“ _¿Para_ tomorrow we may die?” Miguel released an amused snort. “Pretty much, _mijo_.”


	9. Chapter 9

#  9

Morning arrived with much regret on Tuck’s part. The bleak sun of dawn found him sprawled on the dewy ground with only a jacket tossed over him. His everything hurt. When he sat up, a half-dozen mosquitoes took to flight. That pure ethanol kicked like a mule, but it did get him a peek inside the lab. The worn and improvised equipment would be adequate for most purposes.

A simple flex of his right hand sent a nauseating stab of misery straight to his gut. With that hand draped carefully over his bruised shoulder, he struggled to his feet.

Roxy dozed in one of the more intact lawn chairs. Entranced, he watched the shallow rise and fall of her chest. In that moment he could have died a happy man.

A series of solid thumps, flesh against flesh, drew his attention to the tree line, where Esa pounded his own ribs. When he sensed his audience, he asked, “You always this nosy or is today special?”

“Just… Why?”

“I know what I am, what I’ve done.”

“Yeah, but… Why?”

“What are ya, like, four? Go talk to Roxy if ya gotta ask stupid questions.”

By the time he glanced her way, a scowl etched Roxy’s features. “Seriously? Just gonna throw me under the bus?”

“Hey, I’m nobody’s hero.”

“You can say that again.” She slouched forward. “Did anyone get the number of that bus?”

“Chu will feel better after some coffee.” Miguel set his percolator over the banked coals before teasing the fire back to life. “Good thing chu kids packed in some _aqua_. The sulfur water here tastes like _el culo del diablo_ , Satan’s asshole.” He stooped, staring into the fire. “Is this true, _señorita_ , chu don’t mind dumb questions? _Porque_ I have a few. Like are you really two people?”

“Who told you?” By all the laws of thermodynamics, Esa should have burst into flame under her glare, but he continued to smirk without even smoldering. Roxy motioned everyone closer. “Gather round cause I’m only doing this once.”

After everyone had taken a seat, she asked Tuck, “You remember back in second grade, when I stabbed that Burchess bitch between the shoulder blades?”

“Yeah, I thought they were gonna take our pencils away for good.”

“Well that wasn’t entirely me.”

“Hey,” Caweeta replied, “nobody hurts my ride without paying the price.”

Roxy shook their head. “You stabbed her in the back.”

“She had it coming. I’ve roamed this world since the Oconee cursed the English; I know when to stab a bitch.”

Roxy settled into her chair. “Yeah, why don’t you take over story time, oh ancient and immortal pain in my ass?”

Caweeta grumbled. “I keep telling you, I’m not immortal; I’m dying. I kill you ‘hosts’ before I’m born. And I’ve been born a lot. Every war, every plague? Pfft, dead again. More than three centuries and I’ve never seen the far side of thirty.”

Roxy bared her teeth. “Thanks, you paint such a hopeful picture of my future.”

“Fine, what story do you want to hear? The one about the first time I died? Only horse I’d ever seen, it kicked me in the head. Took three days to pass. There, happy? Oh, how about the time they shipped me home from the Korean War? My parents blanketed everything in gardenias because I stank. The Great War was a good one; I thought I’d never make it home from Flanders’s Field, and next thing I know, I’m shipped off to fight the Germans again. Immortality sucks.”

“And chu remember all of _ese_?”

“Every mind-numbing second.” Her grin turned sly. “I do get a kick outta my parents’ reactions when my first words are full sentences. I’ve spent lifetimes as a toddler, and let me tell you, that sucks. Almost as much as waiting for a pregnant woman with a fresh ride.

“At least death gets easier. That first one?” Her head swung from side to side in negation. “Nothing hurts as bad as the first time you die.” She met the gaze of each man in turn. “So y’all had enough of the freak show?”

When no one replied, Roxy untucked her legs to stand. “What’s the plan? We find someone to dispel the pendant, then hunt down Dee and Kim?”

Tuck stood to stretch. “Maybe Kim first? Find out who’s who.”

Esa let his head drop for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. Dee’s no joke. Kim first.”

“I’m in.” Miguel nodded in sync. “This place is boring me to death.”

“Are we ready?” Roxy asked.

“Hold your _caballos_ , _señorita_. Coffee first.”

 

 

As the sun crested the horizon, everyone hiked back up the trail to the parking area.

After Isbet didn’t take the call from Miguel’s phone, he called from Roxy’s. Spanish flew from his tongue in rapid clips that Tuck had no hope of following. After each pause he grew louder, more animated. By the time he tapped the end button, he seemed downright frantic.

“They are on their way,” Miguel stated, his voice grim with disapproval. “Isbet and Abuelita Moré should be here” — the growing rumble of an engine and crunch of gravel under tires drew their attention to the winding drive — “now.”

A subcompact SUV rounded the corner, the sunrise glinting in fire along its metallic orange exterior. As it drew nearer, the driver came into focus. Tuck wasn’t certain what he expected, but he would have guessed the woman with her straight hair and almond eyes to be Asian instead of Caribbean. On the passenger side, he could just make out a gleaming white bun over the dashboard.

As Miguel prepared to greet Isbet, he signaled for Esa and Tuck to attend to the old woman. The small vehicle eased to a stop between them.

The wheels had barely stopped before Isbet opened her door and flung herself into Miguel’s waiting arms. “Oh, _mi amado_! I never imagined Papá would—”

He crushed her against his chest. “Shh, _mi reina_ , your father will come around.”

While they nuzzled each other, Tuck opened the door for the grandmotherly passenger. With a puff of violets, the tiny woman slid to the ground. Sharp, deep-set eyes studied him before she placed her hand at his elbow. When she noticed Esa, she nodded to a carpet bag and a wooden case behind her seat.

Her voice, though soft and frail, grinded as if rusty from disuse. “ _No aquí, llévame al campamento._ ”

Miguel translated for them. “She says not here. We should carry her to the camp.”

Esa huffed. “I’m already totin’ ninety pounds of knittin’.”

Miguel turned to Tuck. “Here, I show chu.” He placed his hands, palm down on Tuck’s forearms just below his elbows. “See, a chair for Abuelita.” They leaned down and scooped up the slight woman who braced one shaky arm around each of them.

Isbet called to Roxy, “Would you mind helping me with the cooler? Abuelita insisted I pack enough Jarritos and _perníl_ to feed a small army. She becomes a fury when she’s hangry.”

Loaded down, they trudged along the path into the deep green of the summer forest. Tuck let the terrain dictate his pace. Roots cut across the irregular rivulets eroded into the red clay underfoot, so each ungainly sidestep required his full attention.

A full hour had passed before Isbet placed the last foil packet of aromatic Cuban food to warm on the fire. She’d barely sat before a voice announced, “Isbet, what do you think you are doing?”

“Papá!” Her surprise turned to fury in a blink. “You put a tracker on my car?”

Before anyone else could do more than gasp, Abuelita broke into rapid-fire, croaking Spanish. From the tree line six — no, seven — heavily armed men stepped closer to the fire. The nearest, the one Tuck took to be Peter the Cuban, held his hands up in supplication, occasionally interrupting with, “ _Pero_ , Abuelita—” or “Abuelita, _por favor_ —” Even after he appeared suitably chastised, she continued to speak, her words slowing.

Then she spun on her heel. “The one in front.” She pointed down the main path through the camp. “He carries the taint. He’s one of those… Reapers, you call them.”

Sure enough, another four men stood there watching in amusement, shotguns slung over their shoulders, their approach masked by her diatribe.

Tuck recognized them all: Darron Wilson, the pushy manager of Bud’s Blooms, the greenhouse where Tuck worked most summers during high school. His younger brother Kenneth, never the brightest crayon in the pack but strong as a mule. Junior Ross, a quiet bear of a man with a legendary temper. And Frank Harris, the luckiest jackass on earth to have Lucy as a wife—not just a looker and a cooker, a disposition so sweet it made sugar curdle.

Darry stood closest. “Now, that’s just some shit right there.” He turned to Kenneth. “Not ever’day some wetback witch calls ya a kid killer.”

Kenneth hesitated but thumbed the strap on his weapon. “Where you been goin’ every month, Darry?”

“You don’t think—”

“Shut up.” He leveled his shotgun.

“It was that Morgan bastard. We all know that. For God’s sake, I’m your brother.”

Esa pressed closer, menace in his scowl. “Yeah, that Morgan bastard was my brother, and he was a saint. Now hold out yer hands.”

Taking a step back, Darry shoved his hands behind him. “What the fuck, boy? You talk to ya betters that way?”

“His hands, Kenneth,” Esa insisted.

If nothing else, Kenneth was compliant, a natural-born follower. He snatched for Darry, who back-peddled right into Junior’s solid chest. Kenneth grabbed one hand, Frank Harris the other.

“No,” Darry wailed, pulling back so hard muscles trembled in all three men. “No, you fuckers, no! You don’t under—”

Esa shut him up with a jab to the ribs. “Turn that hand over so I can see the ring.”

Kenneth obeyed.

“Well, fuck me,” Esa gasped. “Abuelita was right. Like Dee’s.”

“Deputy Dog?” Kenneth asked, releasing his brother.

“None other.”

“You don’t understand,” Darry gasped.

Esa’s second punch rolled his eyes into his head. “I don’t give a fuck.”


	10. Chapter 10

#  10

Kenneth tapped Darry’s face. “C’mon, man, what the hell? Don’t tell me you’re out cold.” Over the next five minutes his pleas grew more frantic.

Darry Wilson lay stone-cold dead from one punch to the jaw.

“What do I do now?” Kenneth asked. “I can’t have the whole town knowin’ Darry was the Reaper… a Reaper! I can’t—”

Esa bowed up. “Oh, but I can?”

Before the hothead took out the last remaining Wilson brother, Tuck looped his arms under Esa’s, locked his hands at Esa’s neck in a full nelson, and pulled the bigger man back. “If you had a choice, wouldn’t you have kept it a secret?”

“Yeah.” Esa spit on the ground. “I suppose I would. Now let go of me b’fore I crush ya into that tree.”

After helping Kenneth bury his brother in the marshlands, the remaining Klansmen joined the world’s most solemn Cuban lunch. Just another missing person in this forsaken hellhole.

By the time everyone had eaten, Abuelita converted the splintered picnic table into a full apothecary shop. Her drawers and bottles left Tuck dumbstruck. He knew, intellectually, that chemistry began this way, but to see it in action fascinated him.

Abuelita held out a weathered and spotted hand. “ _¿Señorita?_ ”

Isbet tapped Roxy’s shoulder. “She wants the necklace.”

Roxy went to her backpack and pulled out the jewelry box. “It’s in here.”

The old woman spoke as she inspected the trinket, and Miguel translated: “Very strong magic but very old blood. She says the… Amulet of the Jumpers? Leapers? She says it would have been irresistible with pure, fresh blood. Oh, Leapers, like rabbits. It’s for couples wanting to reignite the spark. But this one… someone worked it… in evil. With evil.”

She sniffed it. “Strong evil.” She held a hand out to Esa. “She thinks the ring will smell the same. Like misery and death.”

Esa held out his trophy. “Guess I gotta get Colt’s outta his ashes.”

She took the ring.

As her Spanish grew agitated, Miguel shook his head. “There’s nothing she can do with the rings. A similar evil but so much more. A shattered heartstone? The demon dead, no, extinct. Like its totems.

“These were meant for permanent… changes? Alterations? She says they will… persist.” Upper lip snarled, he handed the ring to Esa, his eyes never leaving it. “Chu’ll have to secure them. Never—”

A howl erupted from Esa. “My fuckin’ hand!” He pulled at the ring on his finger but only managed to split his skin. “Fuck, cut it off! Cut it off!”

While everyone scanned for something useful, Peter pulled a pair of pruning shears from the back pocket of his chino shorts. “You certain, _niño_?”

“Fuck, yes, I’m certain.” Esa pressed his finger between the blade and the anvil.

“On the count of _tres_. _Uno_ … _Dos_ …”

Esa shuddered as his finger dropped to the leaf litter under his feet. “Holy shit, it’s still in there! I can still feel it in my hand.” Even the mighty Esa paled as his blood pumped in spurts.

Peter guided him to the table and sat him to face Abuelita who opened one of her glass jars. “She says this will sting, but the bleeding will stop, and the taint will flee.”

Through clenched teeth, Esa muttered, “Get on with it.” His blood pooled on the table.

Peter held Esa’s hand steady as Abuelita brushed a giant matchstick over the stump. The head sizzled as the flesh blued. Silver nitrate, Tuck realized and, judging by the scent of inorganic fertilizer, potassium nitrate as well.

As the seconds passed, Esa’s curses grew louder. White, wriggling threads began to emerge from his stump. Abuelita grabbed one with a long pair of tweezers. Her grip too firm, a bit of the thread shattered. She caught it again. Inch by inch she teased the filament from Esa’s hand, then dropped it into a clear vial. After three more, she capped the vial. “ _Es todo._ ”

Esa took a shaky breath. “Thanks. _Gracias._ ”

Peter still held his hand to the table. “ _Él necesita vendas._ ”

“I’ll take care of it.” Isbet replied. She took a commercial bottle of saline from a drawer, obviously familiar with Abuelita’s traveling museum. “Let’s get you cleaned up first, then Papá’s bandages. _¿Sí?_ ”

Esa nodded weakly.

While she worked, Isbet chided, “Pruning shears? Really, Papá? You’ve been watching too many movies, _hombre viejo_.”

Once Esa cradled a clean and bandaged hand to his chest, Tuck couldn’t help himself. “That was about dumb as fuck.”

“Tell me somethin’ I don’t know. I was thinkin’ about openin’ up Colt, and next thing I know…” He waved his remaining fingers, then nodded toward Isbet’s cooler. “Since Roxy packed my finger on ice, reckon they can put it back on?”

“Chemical cauterization? I can’t see why not.” Tuck shrugged. “But you’d best get going.”

“Not b’fore that thing’s gone.”

All eyes locked on the tiny woman as she poured high-proof alcohol into the mortar bowl that held the amulet. Then she lit it. Marble pestle in hand, she began tapping.

Miguel continued translating. “She says fire will solidify the—”

A shaft of crackling midnight erupted from the mortar, encased in the ethereal blue flames of burning liquor. Abuelita emptied the bottle and reached for the wood alcohol.

“ _Demasiado_. Too much, she says.” Miguel’s concern hung heavy in his words.

More flames rippled up the column of void as she poured alcohol over the amulet, continuously muttering _demasiado_ under her breath. The flames raced ever higher, but the sable nothingness rose as if endless. She opened a third bottle, benzene by the smell, and poured. Golden flames chased the blue ones, black smoke curling. Just as she reached for a fourth bottle, the flames died as if smothered, though whether a good sign or bad, Tuck had no idea.

The column of midnight shattered into thousands of great, flaming, black feathers. They fell to the table, leaving the rancid scent of death and burned hair in their wake, the air hardly breathable.

Miguel blew away one a few near his face. “Each holds a portion of the curse. She says they should burn to harmless ash now.”

“We’re done here. Go.” Isbet shooed Esa like a child underfoot. “Let the Klansmen grab Kim at her place; we’ll get Deputy Deazy. I’ll meet back up with you at the hospital.”

Esa turned to Roxy. “How ’bout a ride to get me stitched back together?”

 

 

Isbet kept her word but brought bad news. Dee’s place proved as hastily abandoned as Kim’s, where the goats followed Kenneth, bleating in expectation. He dumped a few scoops of pellets in their trough, then reported them as abandoned.

No proof and no leads, Tuck made a tally of anyone who disappeared that night. He added Frank’s wife, Lucy Harris, and the local district attorney Shane Hightower to his list of cultists. With nothing to go on, Tuck returned to school for the last semester of his master’s degree. _Too much work to throw it away now._

When Reverend Ross’s son, Lil’ Wes, hadn’t returned from his missionary post by graduation, Tuck wondered if the preacher’s son should be listed among the suspected Reapers. Four or five cultists, it didn’t matter; Tuck couldn’t find them. Ever since Spring Break, he tracked every Amber Alert for five states in any direction.

At first he’d only called Roxy with his weekly reports of nothing new. She urged him to talk to Esa, so Tuck soon relayed his consistent failure to the bigger man as well. Those emotion-laced discussions made for a strange affair. Esa spoke plainly of Colt without animosity for Tuck. They shared their pain in simple, calm words that left Tuck both heartsick for their loss and reassured by Esa’s complete forgiveness. Without Esa, Tuck would have never come to terms with taking Colt’s life.

Two weeks after graduation, finally, Tuck thought he could discern a slight pattern in the missing kids, all within a day’s drive by interstate and always just shy of a week before the full moon. Judging by the calendar, he guestimated Kyle Banks, a mixed-race boy of six snatched from the southside of Atlanta, had less than a week to live. Tuck had to get to him by Monday night.

Three on five, maybe more? Tuck didn’t like those odds. While he pondered requesting reinforcements from the Cubans or even the Klansmen, he called Roxy and Esa. They would arrive at his parents’ house soon enough.

Meanwhile he paced. The Reapers had abandoned their homes readily enough, but maybe they didn’t forsake the old church. That would explain their proximity. He dreaded going back there, but he would, just to see if the reek of death remained as strong.

After that, he had no clue.

 

 

Still miles from the church, Esa insisted they park, hidden in a fire break, and hoof the entire way down the rutted gravel roads. For the most part, low dandelions and grass masked their footsteps, much to Tuck’s relief, as he suspected Esa would otherwise insist they sneak through the poison oak and blackberry briars in the woods.

The sun hung overhead, pushing the temperatures into the nineties. Though they sweated freely, the humidity hovered near a hundred percent, leaving them drenched and sticky as well as parched. When Roxy stopped to pat dry the heat rash developing on her thighs, Tuck realized the margins of his armpits sparked with prickly heat as well.

When they rounded the next turn, turkey buzzards circled in the dozens up ahead. That was confirmation enough for Tuck. “Guys, I’m beat. This is obviously the place. Let’s head back.”

“We should at least lay some traps,” Esa grumbled.

Roxy shook her head. “Maybe we should but I can’t. Not and hike back to the truck in this heat.”

Esa pulled his dripping white Alabama Shakes tee from his chest. “Ya do got a point.” He stripped the transparent shirt over his head and wrung it out before draping it over his shoulders. “Fine. I’ll lay the traps an’ wait here for shit to go down.”

“We didn’t bring food or water,” she protested.

“Won’t be the first time I went without.” Esa studied the circling birds, wings wide and unmoving in the thermal updrafts. “Won’t be the first time those fucks came for me, neither.”

“It’s unnecessary.”

Esa snickered at that. “What, afraid them birds’ll put mean ol’ Esa Bo outta his misery?”

“Something like that,” she admitted.

“Eh, no one’s succeeded yet.”

Tuck asked, “Ever see that many at once?”

“Never,” Roxy whispered.

Esa nodded solemnly. “That summer I ran off from Barbs the bitch and Bob her man-whore.”

Tuck gaped, shocked that he’d speak of his parents that way.

“Yeah, well, things ain’t always how ya figure. I only came back ’cause I was frettin’ about Colt the whole time. Fuck, I mighta been littler than him when my hell started, but he was still just a kid. He needed me.”

Esa still eyed the birds overhead. “Nah, it had nothin’ to do with those fuckers up there. The way they kept tryin’ to eat me in my sleep.” He pointed to a _v_ -shaped scar just under his eye. “Like to’ve lost it. Fuck this; yeah, let’s turn back. I’d druther they don’t get a second shot at my eyes if I can help it.”

The two miles they’d hiked in felt like four miles out. By the time they reached Esa’s truck, Tuck needed a shower. That thought led to another, and he turned to Esa as Roxy started the engine. “You didn’t, you know.”

“Didn’t what?”

“Hurt me.” Tuck shrugged. “I dunno, just thought it was important.”

“Ya shoulda been doin’ the shuffle for two days after that. And, oh, but I wanted to hurt ya.” He shuddered, teeth bared. “And I woulda enjoyed every second of it.” His disgust morphed into a lurid grin as he turned to Tuck. “Still kinda wanna.”

“So, you’re, like…” Tuck raised a pinky.

Esa’s chortle lacked real humor. “I’ve had my share. Happens when you’re weaned on a dick up the ass. Men, women, doesn’t matter. Women are tighter, make a sweeter sound. Men don’t toss ya out in the middle of the night for bein’ a pig.” He squeezed uncomfortably high on Tuck’s thigh, the sensation thrilling. “Why? Ya thinkin’ of takin’ up the habit?”

“Ew, no.” Even as he said it, he realized he was again trapped between Roxy and Esa. His tired mind kept meandering back to that moment of pure ecstasy, wondering if it could be reclaimed.

“Don’t. Least ways be twict as picky. Had a regular, liked to choke me out, take me while I couldn’t fight. Not that I wanted to fight, but just… This ain’t no one horse town; it’s full of jackasses. They never take it easy on ya. Double, if they smell desperation. And I ain’t yet met one who…” He raised his pinky. “Not a sissy in the bunch, ’cept one old dandy.”

“Duly noted.” Tuck shook his head to clear the unwelcome lust from the cogs. “Never really thought we had much of a gay community out here.”

“Gettin’ it on the downlow mostly. Some dick on the side to spice up a humdrum life with the missus.”

“Still, weird.”

Esa shrugged. “Whatever gets their rocks off.” The words came out bitter.


	11. Chapter 11

#  11

Columns of black smoke rose from the horizon, growing thicker as they got closer to Tuck’s house. By the time they could see the flames breaching the roof, the trio choked on the rancid smoke of the housefire. In the yard, a charred and doused cross awaited. Firetrucks lined the street, and Sheriff Penbrook surveyed the scene as the firemen directed water at the blaze.

The sheriff glanced up as Tuck approached. “Don’t look like Darry’s handiwork to me; he likes it darker, so he can see it burn.”

“Christ, does everyone in this town know but me?”

The sheriff kept his focus on the flames. “What you expect when you keep your nose buried in those books?”

“Hey, where’s Dee?”

“His gram in Abilene done had a stroke. I reckon he ain’t gonna be back for a while.”

Tuck pried for more. “Seems a shitload of people headed for the hills lately.”

Instead of calling in Cuban gangsters or meth-addled white supremacists, maybe Tuck could get the sheriff to bring in some _real_ guns, like the Staties. Then again, what could they do?

With a bored slackness, Penbrook replied, “Yeah, heard about that Bruer girl leavin’ those goats to fend for themselves.”

“I’ve been wondering about Lucy Harris and Shane Hightower too.”

“Seems they run off together.” The sheriff shrugged it off as if investigating disappearances weren’t an integral part of his job.

“Yeah?” Tuck asked, hoping to learn more.

“Esa Bo Morgan, long time, no see. You keepin’ yer powder dry, boy?” Sheriff Penbrook clapped Esa on the back, ignoring Tuck’s question entirely.

Esa kicked at the ground, his gaze locked on his feet. “Yeah. Keepin’ my powder dry, boss.”

“You keep it up, boy, especially now Colt’s gone. Bob Morgan never deserved no hellion.”

“No, sir.”

“No more dumb shit about him, or I’ll tan ya ag’in.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ve got community service coming up next week.”

“I don’t got my license back yet.”

“I’ll fix it, but that’s gonna be three hundred from your share. Just need to cut yer dope budget, boy.”

Caweeta’s glare radiated frost and flame, a rage Tuck had never seen. “He’s been clean six months.”

“That what he told ya, girlie? Well I have it on good authority that he was frequentin’ a meth house not three months ago.”

“I was there. He was clean.”

Squinting with suspicion, Sheriff Penbrook turned his full attention to her.

Caweeta pressed. “Junior wouldn’t say shit even if he had a mouthful, and Frank’s afraid of his own shadow if he isn’t in a gaggle of assholes. It was Kenneth, wasn’t it, _Grandwizard_? He tell you about Darry too?”

“So what? Darry’s missing. Probably sleeping off a drunk. None of this is any of yer concern, girlie.”

That raised Tuck’s hackles as much as anything. Darry never drank, a firm teetotaler.

Esa snagged her elbow. “C’mon, _Roxy_. Let the sheriff and Tuck talk.”

“Listen to your man, young lady. And stay out from there. Bad things happen to good girls when they poke their noses where they don’t belong.”

Caweeta looked ready to skin him alive but let Esa led her away.

Sheriff Penbrook turned his piercing blue eyes to Tuck without so much as a by your leave. “And you. What did you tell Dee? His report don’t make no damned sense. Self-defense but no weapons found? Hell, no evidence except a body, a bullet, and a cut-up kid.”

The sheriff grumbled, “Kid said all sorts of crazy shit. Must’ve been drugged outta her mind. She described three different people, though I can’t make heads or tails of it. Hell, if she hadn’t said he only had nubs for limbs, I’da thought one of ’em was Reverend Ross’s boy Lil’ Wes.

“Get this. The girl said they hacked off his arm nub at the shoulder to decide how to mark her back. Crazy shit. Ain’t nobody that crazy.” He glared after Esa. “Before I got to the scene, someone had cleaned up that boy’s den of iniquity. The place was spotless.”

Tuck doubted Esa had ever cleaned anything in his life, but he kept that opinion to himself.

Penbrook shook his head as he stared into the flames. “You had a run of some piss-poor luck, son.”

 

 

Midnight was a distant memory by the time Tuck flopped onto Roxy’s overstuffed couch in her bland but cozy apartment. Endless questions had rounded out his evening, not one he could answer easily.

The sheriff’s interrogation felt seven shades of wrong. Despite his insistent questions, Penbrook never turned hostile or doubtful. Tuck couldn’t tease any clues from him, but the sheriff definitely knew more than he was saying.

“The thing about a good beatin’,” Esa announced to no one in particular as he stalked across the room, “is they wanna know you’re down. When you get whooped — and I mean good an’ fuckin’ whooped — the pain lingers, sinks down into ya bones and never leaves.” He nailed Roxy with intense scrutiny. “And I never mentioned Penbrook’s the Grandwizard.”

Allowing her typical formality to slip, Caweeta growled back, “That asshole don’t deserve the satisfaction of whipping you in the dirt.”

“Then don’t go makin’ arrangements for ’im to have it twict.”

“And,” Roxy added, “what about protecting your ride? I’m in this body too.”

Caweeta hissed, “He’ll never know what hit him.”

Esa studied her, expectant.

“Fine. I can hear them.” Caweeta never flinched from Esa’s gaze. “The dead. If they’re still here, I can hear them. One recognized you, wanted you to kill the bastard. Screamed. Raged about everything that man has done.”

With that Esa nodded. “Seems mighty useful.”

“It’s a nightmare. On a blood-soaked battlefield, it’s nothing short of torture. I play oblivious, and they usually move along.”

Tuck sighed. “Be nice if you could just go ask the kids what’s going on.”

“Hmph, I can’t leave my body without a soul for more than a few minutes. Next thing I know, I’m being born again.”

“What am I?” Roxy asked. “Chopped liver?”

“Interesting…” With that Caweeta’s thoughtful expression faded.

Confusion lined Roxy’s face. “Is she seeing if I die without her?”

The men had nothing to say to that.

Caweeta returned with a gasp. “I can — transcendental — I can go anywhere!” Her smile thinned to a knife’s edge. “That fucker’s gonna pay.”

“Easy there.” Esa rested a hand at the base of her neck. “He’s a dead man walkin’, but best to tackle one thing at a time. Let’s find that Kyle Banks kid first. I’m all growed; I can fight my own battles.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have to. Maybe that man will wake up dead.”

“Maybe.” Esa chuckled, his gaze a million miles away. “Maybe he just might.” He brushed a chaste peck against her cheek. “I hope some lucky twit makes you a happy wife one day. ’Cause God help him if he don’t.” He plopped down beside Tuck to pinch his cheek and shake his jowls. “And you too, little guy.” Even as Tuck slapped his hands away, his wistful voice continued, “You were the best thing for Colt. Kept him outta the house but outta trouble. Made sure he never saw the worst of it.”

Tuck studied the ceiling. “That week when you ran off? The belt down his back? Unreal. Colt brushed it off, said he’d earned it. But I could see him shake, not just hurt but furious. Only that once? In all these years? And I know he could be quite the little shit.” He summoned the courage to meet Esa’s gaze. “You made certain of that, no matter what it cost you? That’s damned impressive.”

“What can I say, I’m an impressive guy.” For once Esa didn’t seem amused by his own quip. “I knew he’d go on to great things. If I could get him outta here in one piece.”

When Esa thumped his side, Tuck slipped his hand between Esa’s fist and his ribs. And paid the price on the second hit. “Holy shit, that pinky still hurts.” He yanked his hand away and cradled it to his chest.

Esa chuckled. “That’ll learn ya.”

Roxy shook her head. “Look, my bed’s a king. As long as there’s no funny stuff, we’ll all fit just fine.”

“That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.” Tuck rose to his feet.

He followed her through the dark apartment with Esa just behind. They settled in with Roxy in the middle.

About the time sleep could have dragged him under, Tuck noticed a gentle rocking in the bed. “Oh, you two have gotta be shittin—”

Roxy pressed her hand over his mouth.

Curious now, he turned. Esa held her hip with one hand, the other lost in her hair. Eyes closed in sleep, he looked peaceful.

Together they made Tuck’s chest ache, Esa’s dark skin against Roxy’s paleness, like a classic painting rendered in flesh and blood. Fantasies arose in his mind of sharing her as she lay between them. Of the enticing moans they could tease from her as they ravaged her body. Of her throwing her head back and begging for more. Of hard hands grabbing him in ways he’d never thought he’d desire.

How the hell had the bully who’d terrorized him for as long as he could remember become so damned enticing? Oh, this had to stop. He’d expected it to be purged when Abuelita had destroyed the necklace. Yet the thoughts remained, unbidden and unwelcome but present all the same.

Hell, Esa had been right about one thing; he had liked it. And now he couldn’t shake the urge to chase that high again.

Unperturbed, completely ignorant of Tuck’s annoyance, Esa continued to rock in his sleep, like an infant finding comfort in the repetitive motion. Tuck and Roxy let him, their own slumber dragging them away to tranquil vistas of the mind.

The dark figure, bones now cloaked in lustrous ebony feathers, joined Tuck in his dreamscape. “He’s loved you for a long time.”

“Never seemed that way.” Tuck didn’t bother to look; he knew he’d regret seeing the creature’s face. “Seemed like he just enjoyed hurting us.”

“Indeed he did. Very much in fact.”

“So what do you want?”

“Without my help you’ll fail. The monster will destroy this village.”

“Oh?”

“You must seize the grimoire before the head becomes prophetic.”

“That seems a bit cryptic…” Tuck drew the courage to face him.

But the creature had gone.


	12. Chapter 12

#  12

“I don’t like it.” Caweeta slung her arm over her eyes. “Pfft, what the hell, taking advice from a dream isn’t the craziest thing we’ve done this week. Anyone care to guess what a prophetic head is?” Before Esa could do more than grunt, she shot him a withering glare. “Not that.”

“I remember. And I don’t like it either.” Roxy snuggled into the blankets. “Soaked ’em in oil until they could yank the head and spine free.”

Esa sat and stretched, adjusting himself in the process. “We ain’t got a shitload of choices. Miguel ain’t called back, and Kenneth’s still mournin’, so the Cubans and the Klan are both out.”

“Nice while it lasted,” Tuck muttered. “Now we’re outnumbered, two to one if we’re lucky.”

“You two need to leave.” Roxy crossed her ankles, flexed her thighs, and moaned. “I think I’m gonna puke if you don’t.” Voice husky, she didn’t seem the least bit sick.

“Shower. God, yes, a shower.” Esa threw his head back so the tendons in his neck flared wide. “If I could just get there without it snapping.” He managed to swing both feet off the bed before he let himself topple backward. Eyes screwed shut, head in Roxy’s lap, he swallowed hard. “Just a taste?” He rolled to press his face to her stomach. “Either of ya. Hell, both of ya.”

Tuck hadn’t decided to run his hand through Esa’s dark hair, yet it happened just the same. Desire crushed his chest, leaving his breath shallow, his heart erratic. “I’m glad I’m not the only one still fighting that thing.”

“Who’s fighting?” Esa asked. “I’m giving in and taking this curse as far as y’all’ll let me.”

Roxy shuddered with a faint mewl. “We shouldn’t. This isn’t real.”

The feminine mirth that followed seemed out of place until Caweeta said, “You three are idiots. You liked it, and you want to do it again. No shame in that. Just own it; don’t pawn the responsibility off on some cursed trinket.” She joined her hand with Tuck’s in Esa’s soft tresses. “Probably won’t be as good the second time. Not much ever is.”

Esa grumbled, “This doesn’t feel like any nut I’ve ever chased.”

“Oh?” Her eyes gleamed in amusement. “So who do you love most, the man who would have saved your brother or the woman who’s put your head back on straight?”

“Them there’s—” he struggled back into the bed until his head rested on her other shoulder “—fightin’ words.” He traced his thumb along her cheekbone. “I don’t love people. It’s a fuckin’ trap, and we both know it. Nothin’ but heartache.”

“Oh, sweet boy, I’ve lived more tragedies than you’ve seen on TV. Nothing but heartache.” She wrapped her arms around Tuck and Esa. “And we do it anyway.” Her content and lazy grin faded. “I’m going to see what I can learn. You three have fun.”

Roxy spoke, barely a whisper. “Kiss him.” Her heart revved to double pace. “Please.”

Tuck rose to his elbow.

Last time, he hadn’t been in control. Now he paused. His self-image hung in the decisions he’d make in the next moments.

Esa shoved up to an elbow as well. Eyes closed, head bowed, he froze.

Tuck could either make the first move or walk away.

“Every night, as I fall asleep…” A shiver ran through Roxy, and her breath came in shallow gasps. “Every night, that’s what I see when I close my eyes.”

Those were his choices, weren’t they? Commit to an entanglement that couldn’t possibly end well or leave before he shattered, before he had to reconstruct the parts of himself he was about to sacrifice. And he was about to sacrifice them, because he couldn’t go. Didn’t want to.

Yet this time no force swept him forward. This time he had to commit. For himself. By himself.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Esa’s forehead.

Roxy’s husky moan held a trace of frustration. “Not like that. A real kiss.”

When Esa’s hand found his chin, Tuck closed his eyes, surrendering to the moment. Lips touched his, the sensation both possessive and tender. The satisfied groan beneath them made him bold enough to part his lips.

True to his word, Esa took every liberty Tuck allowed. Tongues entwined, tasting, testing. Shirts disappeared. Kisses moved down his neck, across his chest. Sharp stubble against his nipple made him jerk away. A wicked chuckle replied before a hand pushed him to his back. That hand slithered into his boxers, making his whole body go rigid. Patient, Esa stilled, waiting for permission to push further.

Esa’s sharp gasp brought Tuck’s eyes fluttering open. Naked, Esa knelt between Tuck and Roxy. Unlike the sharp line where Tuck’s gingerbread-dark farmer’s tan ended at his biceps, olive-brown covered Esa’s body, nothing like the golden tone of his half-Chippewa mother, with her straight, bleached hair and dark eyes.

Every inch of the man quaked as Roxy’s thumb ran up the underside of his shaft. Once she’d milked a glistening drop from him, she dabbed it with her index finger and brought it to her lips.

Tuck expected a barb of jealousy as she tasted Esa, but his hand found Tuck’s erection. That moment froze in his mind, a heartbeat of perfection.

As she folded toward his cock, he stopped her with a knuckle cupped under her chin. “Not yet.” He eased her to her back. “Let me serve you, sweetness.”

When Esa’s hand released him, Tuck rushed to shed his shorts so the entire process took twice as long. Judging by Roxy’s mewling gasps, he was missing something wonderous.

Esa had slipped two fingers inside her, the sinews of his forearm writhing. He nudged her hand toward her center, encouraging her to take her pleasure.

Unsure of what to do with himself, Tuck brushed a fingertip over her nipple. With an anguished cry, her back arched and strained, chasing his touch. Curious, he started with teasing grazes across both nipples progressing to firm pinches that made her buck.

Esa whispered, “Don’t hurt her, not yet. I’ll tell ya when.”

The world beyond Roxy fell into oblivion. Across a vast canvas of emptiness, she writhed in need. She clung to Esa’s wrist as if afraid he’d bring her this far and then deny her.

When she stiffened and stopped breathing, Esa whispered, “Now.”

Tuck pinched her nipples, and she arched into the sensation, her head pressed into the mattress, so she could thrust her breasts into his cruel affections.

She finally sucked in a harsh breath. “No more,” she gasped, pressing a palm to her sex. “Please, no more.”

Yet Tuck held on, strangely eager for Esa’s approval even as she bucked and writhed in his hands.

“Please,” she begged, a note of desperation making the word ragged.

With that, they released her to collapse. Hyperventilating, she continued to shake. Both hands over her core, she jackknifed to the far side. Tuck watched, entranced, while the occasional spasm took her as her breathing slowed.

She glowered at Esa. “Too much… is never… enough?”

“You said it.”

“Yeah, well… I thought you said… a man wouldn’t search… for the G-spot.”

“Sweetness, did that feel like I was searching?”

She giggled drunkenly.

He licked his fingers with feline satisfaction. “Might wanna grab a towel next time.” He stood, swiped his tee from the floor, and ran it up his arm. “Bit of a juicy peach ya got there.”

Then he turned a lurid grin on Tuck. “Don’t think I forgot ya, little guy. I just can’t decide how to break ya. Oh, ya want me to offer a quick blowjob and call it an evening. But that won’t leave ya beggin’, terrified I’ll stop, then twict as afraid I won’t.”

Roxy raised a finger. “Can attest. Defin-in-untly more afraid he wouldn’t.” She burst into giggles again and buried her face in her comforter. “Defin-fan-fin-def-nitly broken.”

“What do you think, sweetness; what will leave him gibbering into the blankets?”

“Jerk.” She hurled a pillow at him with deadly accuracy, though he snatched it from the air. Still riding high, she chanted, “Head down, ass up, that’s the way we like to fuck.”

“Damn, what kinda music you been listenin’ to, sweetness?” He ignored the bird Roxy shot him. “What ya say, little guy, ready to come outta the kiddie pool?”

Tuck shook his head. “I’m hardly ready for the kiddie pool.”

“C’mere a sec.” Esa held out an arm until slow steps brought Tuck into his embrace. “I never knew no differ’nt. Never got the chance to learn for myself.” He pulled Tuck’s back tight against his chest. “I lost Colt, too afraid to get close. I keep thinkin’ that, that, that _thing_ ya had to handle? Ya never woulda had to do it if I hadn’t been so fucked. I shoulda been the one who took care of, of, of that.”

He rested his head on Tuck’s shoulder and dropped his voice low. “If ya wanna stop, we stop. I’d never hold it against ya.” His embrace became an anaconda squeeze. “Just don’t bolt on me. I can’t lose you too. Please. Not right now. I wouldn’t make it.”

“Easy,” Tuck urged, pulling a deep breath just to see if he could. “I’m not going anywhere.” The crush around his ribcage relented only slightly. “I never expected to like… what…” He shook with Esa’s chuckle. “But I did. Like it. And I want to again. As batshit crazy as that sounds, you sadistic fuck.” Another chuckle. “I understand precisely jack and shit about what we’re doing here. But, so long as you take it easy, you lead and I’ll follow.”

“Dumbass, I’ll take ya places ya never wanted to know existed.”

“You always have.”

“We’re gonna die tomorrow night. Might as well go out with a bang.”

A sudden hand around his throat coaxed Tuck to stand tall.

“There’s a special kinda hurt I always wanted to put on ya.” Esa’s grip tightened just enough to make Tuck nervous. “Put yer arms behind yer back.”

When Tuck did as he was told, his fingertips brushed Esa’s half-hard cock.

“Un-uh, that comes later. And you’ll be glad to do it. For now, grab yer elbows and close yer eyes.” He released his choke hold. “Don’t move a muscle. We’ll be right back.”

“We?” Roxy asked, but they slipped from the room with no reply.

Time ticked by as his hard-on deflated. Tuck shifted from foot to foot, anxious for this wait to end. _They could be halfway to Miami by now._

“Those eyes better be closed,” Esa growled.

“Eyes closed, boss.”

They bustled around the room for a moment, arranging things behind Tuck. Then that big hand stroked up his throat before resuming its grip just under his jaw.

“Good boy.” An arm came to rest, jutting over Tuck’s shoulder. “Now I want you to open those eyes for me.”

A fine-honed hunting knife glinted just inches from his nose. He couldn’t suppress a shudder as Esa twisted it to glint in the morning light.

“Ya still wanna play?”

Tuck swallowed hard. Voice crackling, he answered, “Yes.”

“Yer gonna wanna be a very good boy for me. Don’t worry; Roxy will help ya keep your balance. Put yer hands on her shoulders. Now shut yer eyes and keep ’em shut.” Esa released his grip, the action followed by unexpected crunching sounds off to the side. “Now don’t fucking move, or ya might get hurt.”

A quick slash burned across Tuck’s back from one shoulder to the far hip, causing him to jump into Roxy.

She stroked his arms. “Easy. You’re okay.”

Easy? Thin rivulets trickled down his back, and she wanted him to relax?

“Close your eyes, Tuck. You’ve got to trust us if you want to do this.”

Now that was a hell of a statement. Yet he wanted to continue. His entire body hummed with the frenetic energy Esa teased from him. He stood stock still and let his eyelids fall.

“Good boy.” Esa sounded genuinely pleased, bringing Tuck a strange pride. With an insistent twist, he turned Tuck’s head to plant a kiss at the hinge of his jaw. “Very good boy. Ready for another?” More odd crunching.

Tuck tried to nod. “Ye...”  He couldn’t choke out anything more.

Another quick slash but this time he hardly yelped. More followed. He barely noticed his whimpers over the thud of his heart. His back had to be in shreds by now. He wanted to panic, but any wrong move might send that blade deeper.

After another round of crunches, Esa practically purred, “Oh, very good boy, maybe time for a little treat?”

Tuck wanted to reply, but he couldn’t force any words out.

“Ya quit talkin’, this game’s over.”

“Please.” That shaky croak was the best he could manage.

After a bit more crunching, Roxy fell away. Damp warmth enveloped his cock.

“Eyes shut?” Esa asked.

“Yeah.”

Roxy teased him with a twirling tongue.

“Ya tell me when yer gettin’ close?”

“Yeah.”

“Now don’t spoil yer own fun. Ya gotta tell me.”

“Okay.”

“Yes, sir,” Esa growled.

The words felt childish, but Tuck parroted, “Yes, sir.”

“Good boy.”

Sensations, rapid and intense, cascaded through Tuck, one atop the next. In seconds — it had to have been seconds — he yelped, “I’m close.”

Everything fell away except the ache between his legs.

“How…?” Tuck swallowed the terror that choked him. “How bad is it?”

A light, feminine giggle cut off short.

“Yer fine.”  Esa put a hand on his shoulder. “Not a scratch.”

Eyes still closed, Tuck ran a curious hand up his back. A bit damp here and there but nothing more.

That proved the last straw for Roxy, who broke into earnest laughter. Drunk. The damned woman was drunk on whatever Esa was doing to them.

Tuck’s eyes popped open to check his fingertips. Not a drop of blood. “How…?”

But for a moment he didn’t care. Roxy glowed, radiated a greater joy than he’d ever seen in her. Mesmerized, he seared every nuance of her into his memory. Weeping with mirth, she’d never been so stunning. Whatever Esa’s appeal in her mind, it left her breathtaking.

Tuck had never brought her to the high where she now teetered, and that realization stabbed his heart. She deserved so much more than him and certainly no lowlife thug like Esa. Tuck might never keep her, but this moment would fortify him for millennia without her.

A meaty forearm dropped on his shoulder. “Women are fuckin’ gorgeous like that.” In his fist Esa held…

“A butter knife? Are you shittin’ me?” Tuck spun and shoved Esa’s chest. “You are an asshole.”

“What? Ya wanted the kiddie pool. Hell, ya think I could do to you what Uncle Fucker did to me?” He turned, pausing to drop the knife into a bowl of ice, the source of that mysterious crunch.

Across Esa’s heavily tattooed back blazed a dozen stripes as wide as a man’s thumb, Penbrook’s handiwork if Tuck had to guess. But under those, scars ran in fluid lines, razor-thin strokes. Everywhere. Just everywhere.

“Holy shit,” Tuck breathed.

“Hmph, she always could pick ’em. Real winners. Barbs Dearest always has had a thing for the psychos. At least Bob never wanted to watch me bleed or fuck me in half.”

Tuck traced one long white line with a tentative finger. “How the everlovin’ hell did I not know about any of this?”

“Y’all was too busy runnin’ from me.” Esa beamed with pride.

As Tuck struggled with how to phrase the question, Roxy asked, “So why’s Bob still on the green side of the grass?”

Esa turned to face her. “Now who says I ever kilt anyone?” His grin assured them he downright cherished holding the bottom line between life and death, that he’d chased that high with the same abandon he’d pursued every other pleasure in life. “’Sides, it’s a lot funner to watch ’im jump when _I_ snap a belt. Watch ’im drink his brains away knowin’ that day’s comin’. Knowin’ it’s gonna be slow, gonna hurt. Knowin’ he’s gonna beg.” He radiated satisfaction. “I never begged, hardly even cried. But he’s gonna beg for days b’fore I let ’im die.”

“Tuck’s right, you are a sadistic fuck.” Roxy let out a huff that blew a strand of hair from her face. “But I can’t say I’d do any different.”

“I knew ya wouldn’t.” Yet his brittle rage shattered into pure disgust. The first thump against the mottled purple over his ribs set Tuck’s teeth on edge. The second, muffled by Roxy’s hand, caused her to yelp. “Would you two fuckin’ stop that?”

“No.” Tuck stepped forward, placing his own hand over Roxy’s.

Vitality drained from Esa, buckling his knees. “If y’all knew what all I’ve done—”

Roxy tried to support him, even as he dropped to the carpet. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Ya’d never say that—”

Tuck knelt forehead to forehead with him. “Dammit, whatever you’ve done, you’ve earned better than this.”

“I’ve earned a shallow grave and my place in hell.” Even with his eyes screwed tight, a tear broke free.

The thought struck Tuck like lightning. “You followed us.” How could he have been so stupid as not to see that before now? “That night with the drunks. You weren’t just hanging out nearby; you were watching over us. That night and how many others?”

“’Til word got around.” Esa let out a bitter grunt that might have hinted at amusement. “You two were untouchable.” A fist of knuckles ran down Tuck’s cheek. “Them boys ain’t never been right since. Mikey Joyce still limps. And Wallace the Nutless Wonder ain’t got but one nut.”

With an unexpected, choked sob, he pulled Tuck closer. “Ya shoulda never had to, to… My ticket’s punched. I’da done it. If I’da known, I’da took care of it. Ya never shoulda…” From so close he smelled warm, alive, even as anguish settled over him.

“If? I would have absolutely let you.” Flickering memories brought bile to Tuck’s throat. “I see him every time I blink.”

“First’s the hardest. I’d reckon doubly so for Colt. I still see the needle stickin’ outta Uncle Fucker’s arm. A little phent’nyl in his smack and, ta-da, no more Uncle Fucker. But ya always pay the price.”

“Christ, you couldn’t have been fourteen when that guy bit it.”

“Two weeks shy.” Esa touched a scar that ran through his brow. “He pissed me off. Now, Colt’s daddy? That’s the one I wanted. That fucker hurt me. Oh, I made a show for Bob, cowered for him, showed him I was good an’ beat down. But truth is he’s a pussy. Played ’im like a fiddle. Until I could put the fear of God in ’im.” His chuckle returned, his mask firmly back in place. “So, that taste?”

“Wait, ‘good boy’?”

“Ya’d think it’d piss ya off. But even my first, when I was bitin’ my lip to keep from squallin’, it made me float, made me brave enough to face the next day. Barely.” Invasive, possessive, eager, Esa pressed forward until Tuck’s elbows supported his upper body. “I’m still a bit pissed about him makin’ me a faggot though. I’d never’ve learned I liked this shit if it wasn’t for Colt’s daddy. Fucker.” He struck, fast but gentle, taking what was offered.

Before Tuck could relax into the idea, Esa pulled back. “Strawberry? Woman, what have ya done?”

“Strawberry pomegranate, just a hard candy.” She pressed it between her lips so they could see.

“Yer a menace. I can’t feel my tongue.” He scraped it against his teeth. “Damned strawberries.” He stretched long on the carpet beside Tuck. “I’ll come back for that later. Provided there is a later.” A weary heaviness dulled his expression.

Aching, ready to come, Tuck suppressed a growl. If Esa needed some time, Tuck didn’t want to goad him. Maybe they’d been making nice, maybe Tuck even somewhat trusted the man, but Esa still had a vicious temper.

Esa sighed softly. “People have suspicions, but no one knows for certain about Uncle Fucker but you two.” Eyes closed, he gripped the bridge of his nose. “Mighta ‘pushed my boundaries’ a little too hard this morning.”

Roxy curled up beside him, tucking into his armpit. “Then let us ‘serve’ you.”

“Oh, sweetness, I come last. If I come at all. I didn’t make the rules, but I fuckin’ learned ’em well.”

“We seem to be breaking rules already,” she countered.

As if their nearness had become too much to bear, he pushed away and got to his feet. Nervous energy propelled him around the room until he lit on the edge of the bed. “So where’s yer toybox?” Smirk back in place, he appraised her like a juicy steak.

“Toybox?”

“Yeah, toybox. Ain’t met a woman yet without one. And don’t play stupid, sweetness. Ya can’t pull it off.”

In one languid move, she rolled from her back to her feet. “Sometimes I wanna slap the piss outta you.”

“Go ahead. I won’t stop ya.”

She stalked forward, planted one foot between his, and raised her hand. Instead of the stinger Tuck expected, only the pad of her middle finger landed.

When she settled, straddling his thigh and rocking gently, Tuck couldn’t take anymore. Nauseated by his angry cajones, he struggled to stand. “I take it back. You two are good together. Great. Right. Fuck, perfect, beautiful, all that sentimental shit.” He started for the door. “An’ I gotta wash up.” Any excuse to flee.

An iron grip on his wrist jerked him to a halt.

“Don’t go.” Esa held tight.

“And why not?” The words held more venom than he felt, but Esa let go.

Before Tuck could make any sense of Esa’s haunted expression, his usual assholery fell like a theater curtain. “I ain’t broke ya yet.”


	13. Chapter 13

#  13

Esa guided Roxy to her feet as he stood. He grabbed Tuck’s hair and jerked his head back, exposing his throat for hard kisses that dropped ever lower.

Tuck felt weak as he protested, “The straw—”

“Don’t care.”

Shattering the silence Esa’s phone on the dresser blasted the snarled lyrics, ‘ _Regrets I’ve had a few, but then again too few to mention,_ ’ some forgotten punk rocker mangling the Sinatra classic.

“Don’t care.” Esa committed to the sentiment by dropping to his knees.

Roxy stalked toward the disruptive noise. “But it could be Miguel.”

“Fuck.” On his feet in a blink, he dashed past her. “Don’t even think about it. No one touches my phone. Ever.” He checked the display. “Okay, it could be Miguel.”

He tapped the screen. “Hey—” His jaw went slack as the tinny speaker squawked. “Yeah—” Even Tuck could hear the agitation in Miguel’s voice. “Yeah, m— No— Yeah, I get—” Esa glared at the phone, holding it out from his ear. “Can you make it here?” Esa turned to Roxy. “Where’s here again?”

“Tivoli Terraces. Room two twelve.”

“You got that? …Buy us a few minutes, and we’ll take them out. I’ll call ya when we’re in place.” Esa tossed the phone on the bed and slipped from the room.

“What the hell?” Tuck called after him.

“Best find a place to beat ya meat, little guy; Miguel’s incoming and he ain’t alone.”

Tuck made the hall just in time to see the bathroom door close.

“Hey, sweetness, where’s yer good condition—never mind, found it. Ten-minute miracle? I was hopin’ for ten seconds.”

“Don’t call me that,” Roxy huffed.

“Oh…? Ya didn’t… seem to mind… when ya was…” After a few grunts he continued, “Gettin’ yer rocks off.” He flung the door open while zipping his fly; Tuck hadn’t even noticed he’d grabbed his jeans. “Best get movin’, little guy. Tick-tock. Ya won’t be good for shit in a real fight with blue balls. And I need that brain of yours.”

He was right. Tuck knew he was right. That fact alone annoyed Tuck more than he cared to admit. More annoying however, Tuck didn’t think he could do it. “Just tell me what you need.”

“Mustard gas? Whatever nasty shit ya can make from whatever ya find.” Shoes in hand Esa hurried from Roxy’s bedroom. He tossed his shoes toward the sliding door of the balcony, then dashed to the kitchen, snatching open cupboard doors before Tuck could register what he asked. “Sweetness, grab the four—”

She huffed. “I told you not—”

“Grab the fuckin’ four-way from under my driver’s seat. If the back window is still up when the gray sedan comes in, hit it as hard as ya fuckin’ can. Keep hitting until it breaks. Then Tuck gasses them.”

“You want me to mix toxic gas in here?” Tuck demanded in disbelief.

“Fuck no!” Esa grabbed an armful of canned goods. Deftly he maneuvered through the apartment to the balcony as he spoke. “They’ll ignore the two lovebirds making out on the far side of the drive. Too focused on Miguel. Until I open fire.” He dropped the cans and went back for more. “Move yer asses.”

As soon as she’d dressed, Roxy flung open the door and disappeared into the heat without shutting it.

Under the sink, Tuck found half an economy refill of window cleaner. It would have to do, unless… A bottle of drain cleaner lurked in the dark back corner. “This shit’s toxic, you know. One lungful and they’re dead.”

“Good.” Esa had another armload of cans most of the way to the balcony. “After what they did to Colt, I hope they suffer.”

“We’re gonna regret this.” When Esa offered no response, Tuck asked, “And what the hell am I supposed to mix it in?”

“I’d recommend their fuckin’ car. Now stop being a useless tit.” He grabbed his shoes, slid the balcony door closed, and lifted his phone to his ear.

Drain cleaner in hand Tuck headed for the laundry closet. He snatched up the bleach bottle. “Not enough,” he informed the empty apartment. “Shit.”

Before he’d thought it through, he pounded on the neighbor’s door. When it swung open, he blurted, “I need bleach!”

A shirtless Asian man, all gristle and tendon under his wrinkled skin, started talking. Though he spoke English, none of the words made sense in Tuck’s overloaded brain.

“It’s a matter of life and death.” _Mostly death._ “Bleach. Please.”

He disappeared and returned with a near-full gallon.

“Thanks.”

Tuck shot down the stairs to join Roxy across from the balcony. Her arms wrapped around him. Shaking in her embrace he held the bleach in one hand and the drain cleaner in the other. He worried the lid until the bleach cap dropped to the blacktop at his feet.

Then they waited.

On the next balcony over from Esa, the neighbor watched Tuck and Roxy, awed by this turn of events. Esa shouted for him to get back, warning of gunfire.

Tuck scanned the area, relieved to see no one else in sight.

The old Asian shook his head, refusing Esa’s suggestion that he flee his balcony. Holding out a hand, he motioned for some cans. His face settled into the grim lines of a man ready for war.

Except what they were about to do had been a war crime for over a century.

No one seemed the least bit ruffled. And Tuck realized they didn’t understand the enormity of what they planned. Well, Esa might not have cared. The old man, he could probably handle this; he had the air of a veteran. But Roxy? Tuck could only ready himself. He had no words to convey the idea to her. Instead he stared numbly at the street.

Waiting for fate.

With a screech of tires, a small blue car squealed into the apartment complex and headed right for Tuck and Roxy. It had barely corrected course when Miguel bailed from the moving car and rolled to his feet. He ran for the building.

Mayor Hardwick’s silver sedan followed, rifles out the front-passenger and back-driver windows. A barrage of cans slammed the car. With a yelp, the rifle aimed at Miguel dropped from sight, the fight lost in a blink.

Roxy hit the back-passenger window. It shattered on the first blow and crumpled on the second.

Tuck was up. Three of the town’s leaders — Mayor Vivian Hardwick, Gilead Harper, and Jeff Jones — stared dumbstruck at him.

But he was committed.

Keeping pace with his arms inside the rolling vehicle, he crushed the bleach bottle against his forearm, forcing the thin liquid out fast. After dropping the empty, he used both hands to force open the child-resistant cap on the drain cleaner. Then he held his breath as he squeezed it into the car with a silent prayer for forgiveness to whatever powers might exist in the universe.

The stinging fumes and instant heat drove Tuck back. A thick haze of green-yellow billowed from the windows. He scrambled to calculate the risk that the chemicals might explode.

At the far end of the parking lot, Miguel’s car crashed into the fence. The discordant noise warbled as if from the bottom of the sea. Even the panicked shouts from the people in the car distorted.

With so much ventilation, they managed to open the doors and drop to the asphalt, coughing blood already.

Tuck studied the people he’d gassed, slices of time etched in anguish. Faces distorted, clawing at their throats. He knew they wailed from their twisted mouths, but he heard nothing. Eyes clouded, they wept blood. The mayor’s prosthetic leg lay by her as her stump kicked.

In that moment he would have given anything to know what Colt had been trying to explain.

The next seconds passed in a fugue, little more than flashes: Roxy bending double, her body lurching. Esa, expressionless, wrestling a ring from Gil. Miguel, his scowl a tight mask of horror. The old man’s awestruck grimace.

Tuck’s lungs screamed. He sucked for air, but his throat had locked down tight, refusing to allow a breath until the encroaching blackness claimed him.


	14. Chapter 14

#  14

The rat-a-tat-tat of his hair whipping his face brought Tuck awake. Flecks of debris pelted his skin, some large and sharp enough to sting. Motion thrashed around him, wild and violent and deafening.

When he cracked his eyes, he instantly recoiled, throwing his arm over them. As if dehydrated, they felt sunken in their sockets. His stomach burned and twisted, threatening to evacuate with force. The vague aromas of pineapple and swimming pool infused each breath. Every inch of him ached in a way he’d never known.

The telltale ridges of a truck bed jutted into his back, jamming harder with each bump. Had Colt let him fall asleep while Dad drove them to a campsite? Maybe he’d gotten sick in the woods? He didn’t know and couldn’t ask. A captive of the grit-laden wind, he forced himself to calm, summoning patience with only the greatest effort while his senses were assaulted from every angle.

Using both hands to shield his eyes, he took a peek. Faded mint green. Well, that answered a lot of questions. Esa Bo Morgan had finally taken it too far.

Then again, Tuck couldn’t imagine Esa smacking him in the back of the head with a rock and racking his cajones to his ears. In fact, Esa never hit him or Colt below the belt. So had Tuck been jumped by someone else?

At least Esa was decent enough to take him to the hospital. They were headed to the hospital, right? A glimpse of bare legs. Colt was here. He wouldn’t let Esa drive Tuck into the woods and dump his body.

Pissed off by the grit, he began shoving his way toward the cab, where he could sit up and look around without instantly getting trash in his eyes. But by the time he could reach the back glass, his mouth watered like Niagara Falls. Three slaps against the glass and he crawled to the passenger side of the truck bed. He didn’t like the thought of hurling in the wind whipping around him, but thankfully they jerked to a halt before Tuck’s stomach heaved.

A hand came to rest between his shoulder blades. “Chu alright?”

That wasn’t Colt.

Wiping a tendril of spit from his chin, Tuck glanced up at the concerned Latino. He seemed familiar enough. However the aged Asian man sitting on the other wheel well didn’t ring any bells at all. And Roxy. What was she doing here?

Esa slid from the passenger seat. He snapped his fingers twice in Tuck’s face. At least he remined the same asshole he’d always been.

Too angry to be afraid, Tuck swatted at him. “Knock that off.”

“Look at me, little guy.”

“Fine.”

“No blood. Had us worried there, but the other guys were a bloody mess.”

“What’d you do to ’em?”

“Me?” Esa laughed then, an unexpectedly soft chuckle lacking malice. “You went all vengeful alchemist on their asses.”

“Vengeful alchemist?”

“ _Mijo_ , chu guys saved me from those _pendejos._ ”

The stroke of Esa’s thumb under one watering eye brought memories of his gentle side rushing back. And the horrors followed close behind.

“No, no, no. Colt. Why?” Anguish fresh and raw, Tuck collapsed limp in the corner.

“Miguel, how ’bout hittin’ the cab, and take Kwan with ya. I’ll ride back here with the little guy.” The truck’s springs protested as the men traded places, but the arm that pulled Tuck into Esa’s chest came as a welcome comfort. “Yer gonna be alright. Gotta admit, that was worse than I expected. I thought they’d pass out or somethin’, not dissolve from the inside out. You knew how bad it was gonna be. And ya did what had to be done.”

With a surge, the truck pulled back onto the road.

“And I…” Instead of finishing his thought, he let his head rest against Tuck’s.

As the truck gained speed, talk became impossible. Sheltered by the only one who understood his pain so completely, Tuck let his grief rise from the depths of his soul in a gasped sob.

Far beyond shattered, the unguarded moment passed in mourning not just Colt but his own innocence. Four lives had ended at his hands, and though he regretted none, he now understood why Esa bruised his own ribs. Tuck would do anything to relieve this self-loathing. Yet those deaths were his now, and he’d never again walk free from that guilt.

He allowed his exhaustion to creep over him, dozing fitfully until the truck eased to a stop in front of a fancy art deco home on the far side of town.

“Isbet’s place.” Esa stretched his arms over his head, leaving chilled spots across Tuck’s shoulders and back. When the others emerged from the cab, he told them, “Y’all go on ahead. We’ll be right behind.” Once they were alone, he slipped his arm around Tuck again. “Yer still breathin’, little guy.”

“But they aren’t.”

“Exactly.”

When the silence grew awkward, Tuck asked, “So what’s this community service shit?”

“Fuckin’ Penbrook… I drive a specific car to a specific bar, drink exactly one Coke, and drive back. Pays good but not enough to… Forget it. Don’t matter.”

“Tell me anyway?” When he realized he’d asked Esa to relive another horror, Tuck swallowed a lump of regret.

“Shit, where to even start? I never ran away from Bob; I spotted Penbrook and thought maybe, if he saw what Bob’d done, he’d…”

“Yeah, I hear ya.”

“But, oh fuck no. Bob done told ’im I kilt his fuckin’ mutt, only thing that sorry bastard ever loved. Ol’ Penbrook yanked a bullwhip from his trunk and fucked me up… for the fun of it… because no one gives a shit. For disrespectin’ the man what put a pittance of food on the table and kept the lights on most days.”

Tuck winced, unable to find words that wouldn’t sound hollow.

“I couldn’t go home — another round with Bob woulda ended me — so I headed out to Cottonwood Baptist to either heal up or die in peace.”

“How the hell do you do that?”

“Just lie there an’ bleed in the dirt.” Esa snickered.

“No, I mean talk about all of this…” _Without feeling sorry for yourself._

“Hmph, it’s their game. I already lost, but I keep playin’ along, givin’ ’em what they think they want. Because they don’t know.”

Tuck snorted. “Know you’ll kill ’em? I never doubted it.”

“Know I learnt percisely one thing in this life: how to make a fucker beg.” Esa slapped Tuck’s shoulder. “Don’t think I forgot ya. I’ve wanted to make ya beg a thousand different ways ever since Colt first drug ya home.”

“The hell, man? Why?”

After a jerk that became neither a shrug nor a hug, Esa let his head drop. “That ain’t yers to know.”

Tuck’s regret bloomed into shame. “I keep askin’ stupid shit. Sorry.”

“Don’t matter. No matter where I go, there I am.” Hands braced on his knees, Esa shoved to his feet. Dried blood stained his shirt where Tuck’s head had rested. “’Sides, I like ya. Roxy said I should get to know ya. Ya really fucked up, losin’ that one.” He glanced around as he fished a pack of smokes from his pocket. “Crap. Now I gotta quit these again.”

Tuck stood as well.

He found the house captivating. Arched pairs of tall, leaded windows broke the clean lines of the white stucco walls. The rounded transom, sidelights, and window of the dark-stained front door depicted vibrant waterlilies. “This place, it’s a bit much.”

“Too much is—”

“Never enough,” Tuck finished, a stupefied grin spreading across his face.


	15. Chapter 15

#  15

Just as Tuck raised his hand to knock on the door, Esa leaned in and whispered, “I do look forward to coming inside you.”

Tuck flushed, a fire racing across his skin. Everyone would know he’d crossed that line with Esa, suspect they’d been intimate before coming inside. The fear of being outed ran like ice in his veins.

Esa’s familiar cruel laugh made Tuck’s stomach flip.

“You… You did that on purpose?” The betrayal stabbed deep.

“Never forget.” Esa tipped Tuck’s chin up. “I am a snake.”

Tuck pulled back, his anger seething. “No. That’s not okay. You can’t do that.”

“I can, I did.” A thump landed against Esa’s ribs. “But I’m sorry.” More thumps, heavy and hard, before Tuck could even think to stop them. “I try to control it. Fuck, I try so hard. But I can’t help myself. You were feelin’ good, and I wanted to watch ya crumble.”

“Hey, easy.” Tuck’s hand over Esa’s ribs didn’t stop the blows. “Easy on both of us, damn.” He winced with each impact but didn’t draw back. “It’ll be okay.”

“Ya said yerself it’s not okay.” Esa turned toward his truck. “I need to get outta here. Leave ya alone. Let ya live ya life without my shit.”

“Don’t—”

“I’ve done enough damage. Ya fuckin’ killed for me. I never shoulda asked—”

Tuck chuckled. “Oh, you didn’t ask so much as command.”

“I shouldn’t’ve. Christ, I thought ya was dead when I saw ya lyin’ in that yella haze.” Esa’s head dipped away from Tuck. “When I learnt what Colt was up to, I shoulda headed for the hills and never looked back. He was the only thing tyin’ me here. And I need to go now.” He started walking.

Tuck followed. “Stay. Please.”

“Why?” Esa turned to glower. “What possible good would that do?”

“I… I don’t even know.” Tuck climbed onto the hood though the engine’s heat stung his thighs. “But I know I want you here.” Overhead the sun blazed. He lay back against the windshield and closed his eyes. “You make me less afraid.”

The truck’s springs groaned as Esa sat beside him. “It’s all an act.”

“That’s the thing: it isn’t. You had a plan for Miguel in seconds. I would’ve got myself shot. I’d be dead ten times over. If.”

“Ya wouldn’t even be in this mess. If.”

“I’m not so sure.” Tuck blocked the sun with the crook of his elbow.

A palm groped around until it found a comfortable spot on Tuck’s hip. “Ya know how normal people, they see something painfully cute, and they just wanna pinch it?”

“Yeah?”

“The more I feel, the more I…” Fingers turned to claws, bruising into the flesh around Tuck’s hipbone. “It’s overwhelmin’.”

Wincing, Tuck jerked free. “So we figure it out. Decide where the lines are. Get Roxy to help you find an outlet or some shit.”

“Don’t think buildin’ birdhouses is gonna help.”

“So fry some fire ants with a magnifying glass. Whatever it takes.” He found Esa’s hand and placed it back on his hip. “Hell, hurt me if you’ve gotta but don’t go.”

“It ain’t no fun if ya just lay there and take it.”

Tuck snickered. “See, we’re already making progress.”

This time, before he knocked, Tuck leaned into Esa. “And I look forward to returning the favor.”

“Ya wanna know where the lines are? Well, that’s mine. Never again.” Esa repeatedly stoked his thumb across Tuck’s stubbled jaw with gentle affection. “Well, once for yer amusement maybe. But no time soon.”

Tuck never thought twice about asking special favors from the ladies in his life, but now he wondered if he’d done wrong by them. “How bad will this hurt?”

Esa lit with mischief. “As bad as I want.” He grazed his fingernails down Tuck’s arm. Halfway to the elbow, he sunk them into the meaty underside, squeezing until Tuck grunted and pulled back. He relented for a moment, then squeezed again, not quite as much. Each pinch a little less, Esa kept up a rhythm that make Tuck’s knees weak. “I’d say that’s about right. Unless ya want more. I’ll gladly hurt ya more.”

“And you can’t find some masochist to play with?”

“Always beggin’ for more? Where’s the fun in that?” Esa reached across and opened the front door, releasing the enticing aroma of Italian tomato sauce. “I’m renting the spare room. So c’mon in.”

Tuck’s stomach growled, insisting he could ponder Esa’s impulsive decision to leave after a late lunch. He scanned for Roxy.

The main living room formed a sea of jewel-tone greens and blues against white walls and pickled oak floors. Kwan and Miguel sat on a couch of worn sapphire velvet, talking with their hands and sketching on the paper scattered across the coffee table.

Tuck followed the scent of food but found only Isbet in the kitchen, a stained sack-cloth apron tied around her waist as she set a timer on her laptop.

“Smells great,” he commented.

“Thanks. Lasagna in thirty.”

Ouch, a half hour of waiting while his stomach protested.

As he turned back, Miguel told Esa, “ _Ese_ , she’s in your room. Something’s wrong. _Ella está sufriendo_ …  She’s suffering.”

Tuck pivoted in time to see Esa head down a hallway on the far side of the living room. He followed Esa to the last door on the right.

Roxy sat on the edge of an all-white bed, expression hollow. “I’m all alone.” She peered through Tuck and Esa as if they hardly existed. “Caweeta’s always been here, and now she’s gone.”

Before entering the white-on-white room, Tuck slipped off his shoes. The thick carpet squished underfoot. He sat at her side and slid an arm around her waist.

“How do I live like this?” she asked.

“We all do it.” Not the comfort Tuck wanted to offer, but he had nothing better.

“That just makes it worse.” Her words came out tiny and delicate.

Esa rooted through a drawer in a tall dresser and pulled out a fresh tee. “She’s immortal, right? She’ll find her ride.”

That drew Roxy’s panic to the surface. “But what if she can’t? If she’s lost, she might just give up. Or what if something out there hurt her? She might need help. Maybe she found out what she really is? She could be gone forever, and I’ll never know what happened.”

With no greater comfort to offer, both men sat with an arm wrapped around her.


	16. Chapter 16

#  16

That night, crowded in the full bed, they slept in fits and starts until they realized they were all awake at the same time.

“I’m bored,” Esa announced into the dimness.

Roxy replied, “I’m alone and crowded.”

“Mind if I touch ya?”

“We’re jammed together like sardines; you’re already touching me.”

“Not like that.” The bed shifted. “Like this.”

Tuck rolled toward them as Esa’s hand glided across her cheek. Tuck draped his arm across her chest, his fingertips grazing the other side of her face.

“Ya feel amazin’.”

“Touch starved?” Roxy asked.

“Ha, ya know what I do for a livin’?”

“I presume you are a gigolo.”

Esa snorted at the thought. “I’m just a whore. Gigolos prove to cougars that they’re still sexy enough to make a man to blow his load. Whores do what ya want, when ya want, how ya want it.”

“That wouldn’t ease skin hunger. When’s the last time you’ve known gentle platonic touch?”

When Esa didn’t reply, Tuck asked, “And why don’t you hurt her?”

“Practicin’ self-control.” Esa let his knuckles rest against her chin in silent promise. “Oh, I wanna. But she’ll run. You? Ya know me. She’s still… pristine.”

Incredulous Tuck said, “You sound like you plan to keep us in a box under your bed.”

“For as long as I can.” Esa delivered a possessive crush at Tuck’s shoulder.

Roxy sat up, breaking the bigger man’s grip. “Take off your shirt and lie on your stomach.”

“I’d druther not.”

“Well, I’m not doing this on your front, so you might as well give me your back.” Once Esa complied, she asked, “Will it be okay if I sit on your butt? No back or hip problems?”

He chuckled softly. “No one’s ever bothered askin’. Ya have my ‘enthusiastic consent’ for whatever ya please, woman.”

Once Roxy sat perched atop Esa’s tighty-whiteys, Tuck propped his head over an elbow, his other hand entwined loosely in Esa’s.

With the dry whisper of skin on skin, she stroked from his waist to his shoulders, then down to his hands. When she found Tuck there, she turned to him with a quizzical head cock.

Tuck snickered at her surprise. “I wasn’t being sarcastic; you two are stunning together.”

“Hey, woman, turn on the lamp?”

Roxy reached over and, with one click, brought the sting of warm light into their world. She resumed her touch. Able to see Esa’s scars, she said, “With so much damage, I don’t know if this will work. But oxytocin amplifies social experiences, both good and bad. Platonic touch should turn down your amygdala. Make you feel gentler, safer. Provided your nerves can still deliver the signal.”

He groaned then, barely audible over the insects chirping outside the century-old windows. “Is that what I’m supposed to feel? ’Cause mostly I just wanna fuck ya.”

Her next stroke ran along his sides, which bore fewer marks. “Sadism makes oxytocin act weird. But if I jack you up on enough, you should experience normal empathy for a while.” Becoming ever more technical she droned on as she repeated the motions, words intended to soothe more than educate.

When she grew fatigued, she added, “And call me sweetness if you want.” She toppled between the men. “I’ve fought all my life to get rid of Caweeta, but now that she’s gone, I feel so empty and alone.”

Tuck wiped a tear from her cheek. “Is there anything can we do?”

“I can’t take another second of the silence in my head. Half of me is gone. I don’t know how to face the world like this.” Gripping his shirt, she yanked him closer. “Make it stop.” Roxy unraveled in a blink, desperation etched in every line. “I shifted my focus outside myself, did all the right things. And I still hurt, ache all over.”

“I can get ya outta yer head, make ya float.” He swatted her bottom, a playful tap.

Her panic dissipated, replaced with sheer terror. “Oh, no, please, no!” She clung to Tuck, arms writhing weakly around him. “Don’t let him hurt me,” she pleaded into his neck.

“Hey, hey, I won’t hurt ya. I’d love to but I won’t.”

When he reached to touch her face, she burrowed deeper into Tuck’s arms. “What if I drop? Hours later? Days later? All alone in here?”

Tuck held her, rocking gently. “You’re safe,” he crooned over and over as she shivered. Her fear left him confused.

Right in his element, Esa pressed closer. “Who let ya drop alone?”

“Nobody important. And I wasn’t alone; Caweeta was with me.” Roxy shuddered into Tuck’s embrace. “Please don’t kill him. I’ll be good, just don’t kill him.”

Esa’s expression pinched. “Sweetness, ya ain’t never gotta be good for me. I’ll never make ya be good; I promise ya that. ’Sides I got settin’s between fuck and kill. Not many but some.”

“Sorry. Sorry, I know that. I do. I’m just… alone.” She scrubbed her hands over her damp eyes. “I’m not myself. Thanks for understanding.”

Tuck kept rocking and whispering, worried by the way her thoughts rocketed between extremes.

“Un-uh, ya don’t get to pry me open like an oyster, then shut me out with that bullshit. Ya worked yer ass off to unfuck me; I wanna pay ya back what I can. Tuck won’t let me — well, Tuck can’t stop me from doin’ whatever I please, but he could make it a damned sight harder.”

That made her chuckle.

“See. I’m not a bad guy, just misunderstood.”

Her bray of laughter choked off with a snort. “Fuck you.”

“Any time. Any place.” His soft words dripped honeysuckle sweet, promising only magnificent pain. He barely let a fingertip graze her ear, and she didn’t flinch from him. “I might be among the worst I’ve ever met — and I’ve met some fuckers — but you? Vulnerable and fearless even when I was full-on razor wire and land mines.” When he found her cheek, she nuzzled into him.

“You terrify me.” She sniffled and wiped under her nose with her shirt sleeve. “But the hell I put you through, I expected worse. A lot worse.”

Then she turned to Tuck and smiled for him alone. “Thank you.” Her lips brushed his in the barest kiss. “And I really mean that. I need you right now, your kindness.”

“It’s okay—”

Her bruising kiss cut Tuck off. Her earlier weakness gone, she crushed him against her.

Long past modesty with Esa in the room, Tuck’s passion surged. Though he’d denied it even to himself, he missed her, missed this. He sighed against her plump lips as she sunk to the bed. This felt so right, like he’d finally come home.

She whimpered when he pulled her arms overhead, both wrists in one hand. “Please hurt me.”

Those three words brought Tuck crashing back to reality. She didn’t really want him back; she wanted a distraction.

Eyes screwed tight, she gasped. “Please.”

Tuck glanced to Esa, who shrugged without comment on the whims of someone suffering. “I will,” Tuck assured her, “if that’s what you want. But I need a second, okay?”

She nodded eagerly but grabbed his hands when he tried to release her.

“I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay.” The word held reluctance, and she entangled her legs in his.

“Roxy, listen to me. Either I need a second or Esa can hurt you. Do you hear me? Do you understand?”

“Yeah.”

Esa leaned close to Tuck and whispered, “She’s afraid to be alone.” He broke into a grin. Louder, firmer, he said, “Hold her. Hold her good an’ fuckin’ tight.”

“Please don’t hurt me.” She squirmed but didn’t fight Tuck’s grip.

“Just playin’ along?” Esa asked.

She nodded blankly, eyes wide and expressionless.

“Sweetness, we can hurt ya without hurtin’ ya. Is that what ya want?”

“Yeah.” The word came out in a croak, and she swallowed before trying again. “Yes. Please.”

“First I gotta know what made ya drop.”

Tuck asked, “What the hell is that anyway?”

Roxy answered, “Nasty depression. Hormones all milked dry.”

A suspicion surfaced in Tuck’s mind. “Wait, did you just set Esa up to… to do what?”

“Nothing much. Maybe turn mean later. Meaner. Maybe.” She met Tuck’s gaze. “I wanted to try taming tigers.”

“Oh, yer a sweet one.” Esa cupped her breast. He paused a long moment before easing close enough to kiss her nipple through her clothes. “What made ya drop? Pain? Fear? Humiliation? A dozen big _O_ s in ten minutes?”

“A guillotine.”

That struck Tuck as the single last thing he’d expected. He recoiled at the thought, jerking back and leaving her hands free.

Even Esa let his mouth fall open. “Gotta admit, that’s a new one.”

“A magician’s prop,” she explained. “I, um, we went to Club 1842, the private one hidden out in the boonies.”

“Ah, scared the piss outta ya?”

Roxy’s nose crinkled. “Quite literally. I don’t think we’re welcome back.”

Esa snickered. “I guarantee that ain’t the worst that guillotine squeezed outta someone.”

“Not going back.” Her voice high and childish, she swung her knees from side to side.

“So ya were hoping for what? What’d ya expect?”

“I dunno, something different. I know what I wasn’t expecting.” Doing her best Wednesday Addams, her finger sliced across her throat. She dissolved into giggles that warbled with the sway of her knees.

“Sweetness, yer dick-in-the-dirt worthless.”

“I know.” She curled into herself as her tears started anew. “I need her.” She hid her face in her hands.

Esa tucked a stray curl behind her ear.

His satisfied smirk unleashed Tuck’s fury. That monster enjoyed her suffering. He shoved with his legs, toppling Esa off the bed. All elbows and knees, Tuck pursued him, landing hard on top. His fist drove into Esa’s face, then drew back for a second punch.

In a blink Esa snagged his arm. He slithered behind Tuck and wrenched his wrist high between his shoulder blades. Legs around his middle, arm across his throat, Tuck fought to break free.

“Calm yer ass,” Esa hissed, “or I’ll choke ya out.”

Pressure built in Tuck’s head, but he continued struggling until his vision dimmed. His rage impotent, he stilled. “Asshole.”

“I fucked up; I know that.” Esa relented so the blood flowed freely to Tuck’s head. “It was an accident. A sweet little accident. Okay?” His arm dropped to Tuck’s chest. “I can’t trust her reactions; that makes my reindeer games dangerous.”

“Fine. But you didn’t hafta like it so much.”

“Lotsa shit I ain’t gotta do.” Esa clambered up beside Roxy.

Defenses up, Tuck stood and watched.

“I can’t play with ya right now, sweetness.” Wistful, he twirled that strand of her hair around his finger. “Otherwise Tuck’s gonna need stranglin’, and ya don’t want that.”

“No, don’t want that.” She sniffled, still curled small.

“Now what we can do is make Tuck squirm. Ya know how it is: if he ain’t horny enough, it’s gonna hurt like hell when I ram my cock up his ass.”

His crassness not registering, she blinked up at him. “Yeah. Hurts.”

“So ya think we can get him pantin’ and beggin’?”

“Yeah.” She finally lay flat. “Ouch.” She reached to his face.

“I’m fine. He’s taken worse than he’s given.” Esa motioned for Tuck to join them, the bruise under his eye beginning to swell and darken.

Tuck checked the bedside alarm clock. “It’s barely past midnight, and I’ve already had enough of your shit for today.” He flopped down beside Roxy.

“A talent I was born with.” Esa got up, grabbed two corners of the bottom sheet, and heaved until Tuck found himself in the middle of the bed.

“You bring out the worst in me.” Tuck glowered in hopes the man would take a hint.

“That’s yer worst?”

“No, the kind of deaths that made Hitler cringe, that’s my worst.”

“Ya did the world a favor.”

Brow furrowed, Tuck rolled himself and his pillow back to the side of the bed that he’d claimed for his own. “Fuck off for a while, would ya?”

“Jeez, y’all’re ’bout as much fun as a punch in the eye.” He snickered as he rubbed the spreading bruise. “‘Respect bodily autonomy.’ Fine, but I’d much rather shove ’im back where I put ’im.”

Roxy sighed with the weight of the world. “We’re soul weary. And losing our shit.” She patted the open space in the middle. “Need to relax, sleep. You too. Don’t need you manic.”

“How ’bout I take the floor.”

“Oh, didn’t mean to run you outta your own bed.”

“Speak for yourself.” Tuck rolled over in time to see Esa snatch the free pillow.

“Bed’s too soft anyway.”

All pretense burned away in an instant, Roxy flung her arms out to both men. “Please. I’m so alone. It’s terrifying.”

“I’ve got you.” Tuck kissed her fingertips and snuggled closer. “You’re safe.”

“Easy, sweetness. I got ya too.” Esa dropped his pillow at his feet. “Ain’t goin’ far.” He held her hand as he eased out of sight.


	17. Chapter 17

#  17

Time to pay old Cottonwood Baptist a little visit.

The sunlight slanted through the trees as Roxy pulled into the firebreak where they had parked previously. Isbet pulled in behind them and more Cubans followed. Kenneth Wilson had fumed at not being called earlier. He brought Frank Harris and Junior Ross, all bitterly eager for some retaliation and escalation against the Reapers.

The instant Roxy opened her door, a voice called from the tree line. “You three are some special assholes.” Brilliant white eyes and teeth flashed from the shadow-dark silhouette of a tall woman emerging from the trees.

“Tika?” someone called.

The newcomer ambled to the truck. “I leave you three happily canoodling, and by the time I get back, the whole complex is under hazmat quarantine.”

“Caweeta!” Roxy shrieked. She climbed the woman, clung to her neck, and locked her legs around her waist. “Oh, I’ve been so worried!”

“Hey, don’t hurt my ride!” Clad in charcoal gray running gear, Caweeta leaned down until Roxy let her feet touch the ground. “You were worried? I was checking the hospitals. Just crawling with dead assholes.”

Only one question concerned Tuck as he slid out the driver’s door. “What did you learn?”

“A shitload but nothing helpful. Apparently little kids are quick to move on when they think they’ve died for a worthy cause. The Reapers convinced Kyle his death will keep a demon at bay. Boy died a hero in his own mind. Cute little fella, all excited to save humanity, happy to brag before goin’ pfft.”

“Too late?” Tuck dragged the back of his hand over his mouth, hoping to keep the bile at bay.

Caweeta worked to extract herself from Roxy’s hold. “Something happens at midnight — kid didn’t know what — but they’re expecting us. Eight by his count. I didn’t know I could hate these sickos more than I already do.”

Roxy glared up at the woman Caweeta now inhabited. “So you’re not… I’m…” Her face crumpled before she could voice her thoughts. “So I guess I’m on my own now?”

“Look, we can discuss everything later. Right now let’s give these monsters what they deserve. Then we’ll figure out the rest.”

Tuck scratched the middle of both shoulder blades as he counted. The four of them plus Isbet, Miguel, and Kwan made seven. Four Cubans from each of the two innocuous Champaign-beige sedans brought that to fifteen. Add in the three Klansmen, and he had eighteen. Not bad when he’d expected the three of them to face a handful of cultists alone tonight.

While he noted the variety of firearms in plain sight, he muttered, “Looks like everyone’s gunning for bear. This is gonna get outta control fast.”

“I gotcha, little guy.” Esa’s hand landed on the back of Tuck’s neck, sending a chill through him.

“So you’re taking the lead here?”

“Not even.” Esa winked before pulling a pair of leather thong necklaces from his pocket. “A little art therapy while y’all was sleepin’. I’m keepin’ Colt’s.” The first necklace held one ring in an intricate knot. He slipped it over his head, so the ring dropped near his heart. “Most of these guys talk a good line of shit, but they ain’t never took nobody’s spark.” He handed the second necklace to Tuck. “Four lives. Only Peter can best ya, but he ain’t interested in nothin’ but his men comin’ out whole. That makes you boss. They’ll do as ya say—” Esa’s grin broke into a sinister leer “—or I’ll do as I please.”

All protests died on Tuck’s tongue before he settled the necklace over his head.

Esa said, “I can hear ya gears grindin’, and there’s smoke comin’ out ya ears.”

“Shit. I hate it when you’re right.”

“Not my fault ya got yer street smarts from Sesame Street.”

For once in his life, Tuck found a decent comeback. “Who let you outta your cage?”

Eyes slitted, mouth tight, Esa contorted into the boy of Tuck’s worst childhood nightmares. “What can I say, yer momma likes it rough and nasty. Next time maybe I’ll wear yer face as a mask.”

Tuck blinked, lingering in the reddened dimness with sparks of violet and green until he could pull a full breath. “Christ, you psycho, I was joking.”

“Quit bein’ such a sensitive pus—”

“Esa.” Roxy made the word a threat that Tuck couldn’t fully comprehend.

“Fuck. My bad.” The cruelty lingered as Esa rubbed his temples. “Projection.” The word spewed from him like a particularly vile curse. “Honesty. Fuckin’ honesty. It ain’t as easy as ya’d expect.”

The furrow in his brow deepened even as his remaining features grew slack. “Ya can’t stretch, so ya legs cramp. It’s dark, almost silent, nothin’ but you and yer plans on stranglin’ that fuck. Ya don’t know when nor if anyone’s gonna let ya out—”

“Shit, man, I didn’t—”

“Why would ya? Who the fuck does that?” With a quick sniffle, his expression grew stony. “Who the fuck lets somebody do that to one of their own?”

“That chest you beat to shards and burnt the splinters?”

Esa nodded. “Fucker had it comin’.”

With no reply, Tuck turned so he wasn’t staring. Though everyone milled about casually, they all had an anxious air about them.

“Barbs still swears she’d never been touched. Expected the Second Comin’ or some shit.” Four knuckles popped and then four more. “When Mammie’s Little Angel turned out to be a real bastard…”

“That’s just fucked.”

“Stupid bitch prob’ly passed out drunk at a party. Hell, when I’m feelin’ generous, I figure she was roofied.”

After a pause for decency, Tuck asked, “So what’s Roxy got on you, anyway?”

“Hope,” Esa replied, dead and flat. “That woman talked me into thinkin’ my life might still be worthwhile. I got my doubts, but I gave her my word.” Esa went to the tailgate and climbed into the bed. “C’mon.”

Tuck followed, his nerves jangling.

“Just stand there. They’ll start movin’ this way.”

“What do I tell ’em?”

“Don’t matter. You tell and they do.”

Tuck never enjoyed public speaking, but at least this wasn’t his first rodeo. The knots of people drifted closer. Except Peter the Cuban and his men who approached with purpose. Ready for battle. Like adults. Tuck felt like a kid in his father’s shoes, but he remained eerily calm, an unexpected boost for his confidence.

When people were still talking a minute later, Esa whistled, long and shrill, right by Tuck’s ear. “Y’all shut the hell up. Little guy’s got stuff to say.”

Tuck glared daggers into Esa, but the bigger man ignored him, waving everyone’s attention his way so Tuck had to turn to them. “Okay, they know we’re coming. Probably eight of them. They could show as late as midnight.”

Since none of that told the group what to do, they continued to stare in expectation. Peter held Tuck’s gaze while he slowly bowed his head in silent support.

Except Tuck had nothing. “Let’s, uh, head over to the church. Check the place out. Get ready.” When he took a half-step back, everyone turned back to their cars. To Esa he muttered, “That’s a hell of trick you have there.”

“Nobody wants responsibility for when this goes south. Now all ya gotta do is keep ’em under ya thumb.”

“Yeah.” Tuck threw a leg over the tailgate. “My thumb.” Nobody had ever been under Tuck’s thumb, least of all this batch of hillbillies.

 

 

No cars and no visible signs of life, Tuck stepped into the church while the others set up a perimeter. The scent of kudzu blooms should have been overwhelming in the small space. Instead the reek of death drowned out all other odors, leaving Tuck to cover his nose with his shirt and hope he wouldn’t retch.

Behind him, footfalls rustled through the leaf litter. “Nobody home,” Esa muttered.

A heavy skittering drew their gazes to the rafters. Dust fell as the noise continued to climb toward the peak. “I don’t see jack,” Roxy called from overhead.

Tuck bit his tongue, holding back the curses he wanted to unleash at her for being so reckless. That roof could collapse at any moment. Yet if anyone could gain the vantage safely, it would be her, the slightest person here.

Roxy added, “I see three weird boulders stacked up in the next clearing.”

“How weird?” Caweeta asked from their left.

“They kinda have an amethyst look to ’em.”

“It can’t be.”

“Well they do.”

“I’ll be right back. Don’t kill anyone without me.”

Though only halfway to the altar, Tuck and Esa turned back, too repulsed to explore further.

To keep from picturing Roxy falling through, lying broken on the clay under the floor, Tuck sought something to occupy his mind. And found Frank Harris cradling his head in his hands.

“You okay?” Tuck asked.

“I should have known it would eventually end like this. When that fucker blackmailed me into the Klan, I should have known Lucy would pay the price.”

“Blackmail? Penbrook blackmailed you?”

“No, not Penbrook. He’s just another pawn. Carson Nix.”

“Carson Nix? I’ve heard the name.”

Frank gathered wool so long Tuck thought he wasn’t going to reply. “…The way he passed her around like a piñata. Or maybe a dartboard. I’m surprised she survived.”

“And nobody tried to stop him?”

“I did. Darry did. Junior and Kenneth too. And you see where it got us. Hell, I bloodied her myself to save my own hide. Nobody bucks Carson Nix and walks away unscathed.”

Half an hour later Caweeta returned. “This is where it happened. Where that horse kicked me. Our camp sat right where this church is built.” She waited for everyone to move closer. “It was sometime in the seventeen hundreds. The English’s treaty said all this land west of the Oconee River belonged to my tribe.” She glanced from one face to the next. “The second time we burned Cottonfield to the ground for violating that treaty, they came for us.”

A shiver coursed through Tuck. Whatever was here had been waiting a long time to get free. And apparently it could prevent the dead from resting in peace. He’d been more than willing to risk his life, but the idea of being trapped as a disembodied soul unable to move on, that left him cold.

However, if Caweeta could do it, so could he.

About an hour after sundown, Esa’s phone rang. He scowled as he answered. “I told ya not tonight.” A man’s voice protested. “Double that, then add a zero, and the answer is still no.” Next a woman’s voice pleaded. “Look, ice queen, yer still waitin’ for Wednesday. Even if yer willin’ to walk into hell and ask the demons if ya could borry me for a few hours.” Esa ended the call and slipped his phone back into his pocket. “Impatient fucks.”

 

 

Seconds ’til midnight, they still stood alone in the warm night. Overhead the buzzards never stopped circling, despite the loss of the updrafts that had kept them effortlessly aloft all day. Underfoot, feathers. Thousands of feathers.

Beep, beep, be—

 _What the hell?_ “Is that a watch alarm?” Tuck asked.

Roxy replied, “It came from inside the church.”

Tuck and Esa burst through the door just in time to see Dee upend a five-gallon bucket over the altar, Kyle’s blood in the proper place at the proper time.

He dropped the empty pail and turned with his hands up. “Let me explain.” Too calm for the circumstances, he walked forward, slipped between Esa and Tuck, and stepped outside. “Everyone, this way please.”

“Well ain’t that some shit,” Esa muttered.

Outside Dee kept his arms high. When he was satisfied that he had everyone’s full attention, he said, “We’re trying to stop the demon, Carrion, from breaking free. We’ve been careful to select kids that are unloved and unwanted. We’ve done everything we could to make this as painless on every—”

Esa thumped Dee so hard in the back of the head that Tuck saw stars. “Kids like me?”

Dee shook off the stunning blow. “Yes, Esa, kids like you. They have no future and no love. But they can appreciate their purpose: to die for the greater good.”

That thought made Tuck’s stomach pitch as he asked, “And it never occurred to you that soaking the ground in the blood of innocents might just make a demon stronger?”

“It’s the only way—”

“Then I’d have found another one, you sick shit.” Tuck was right the first time; he didn’t want to hear this. “Peter, would you remove that ring?” Maybe they could save Dee.

As the older man came forward, Dee slid the ring off and held it out until Tuck took it. “They only attack nonbelievers.” In warbling notes, Dee started in on another blood-drenched hymn. “ _Thy body slain, sweet Jesus, thine, and bathed in its own blood. While all exposed to wrath divine, the glorious Suff'rer stood!”_

Sanctimonious bastard _._ “Kenneth, he’s all yours.”

Kenneth strutted forward as Dee turned to face him, still singing. “This is for Darry.” He leveled his shotgun.

Seconds passed.

“Fuck, I can’t do it,” Kenneth admitted.

“Gimme that.” Tuck snatched the shotgun from his hands. Not allowing a moment to think about his actions, he aimed for his friend’s head and fired.

 _Too far away_ , he realized too late.

Oh, it wouldn’t have been too far if the shotgun held double-ought buck or a slug. No, Kenneth had it loaded with birdshot. It tore into Dee, ripped through his eyelids even. Face punctured in dozens of places, Dee continued his devotion. Certain of the righteousness of his cause, he smiled as blood trickled from his wounds.

“ _Aqui, niño._ ” Peter handed Tuck a pistol, a Glock of some sort, judging by the lack of a safety.

The pistol sat heavy in his hands, unfamiliar and bulky. _One more time, with feeling._ Tuck raised the weapon high and let it drop slowly. “I love you, Dee. I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you,” he replied just as Tuck’s sights aligned between his eyes.

In cold blood Tuck squeezed the trigger and executed another of the best men he’d ever known.

Esa lit into Kenneth. Two rabbit punches to the sternum knocked the man to the ground, then Esa started kicking.

“Enough!” Tuck roared, furious with himself and everything that had brought him to this point.

Kenneth staggered to his feet and spat out a tooth. “Fuckin’ psychos. I shoulda known all y’all’s fuckin’ psychos.”

Tuck watched him, Junior, and Frank go without comment.

For five whole minutes, everyone stood and stared at the weathered church.

“Burn it,” Tuck decreed finally.

“Lotsa feathers,” Esa commented. “Might go wild.”

“Fine. Let me see your phone.”

Esa held it tight to his chest. “Who ya callin’?”

“Kenneth. We’ll rake ’em into the church.”

“He’s a bit pissy.”

“Just give me your phone.”

Esa hesitated, but he eventually tapped the screen. “It’s ringing.” He held the phone out to Tuck.

Kenneth answered, fuming. “You got some fuckin’ balls, ya—”

“Bring rakes on your way back. And some food.”

Kenneth cursed long and loud. He was in this fight, whether he liked it or not. “Who’s payin’ for all this shit?”

“I got a fifty for the food. We’ll send the rakes back with ya.” Darry would have had a fit about borrowing the rakes from the greenhouse, but without him, Kenneth wouldn’t care.

 

 

Hours later, Dee lay nearby with his arms over his chest. Surely whoever came by would see to a decent burial.

Instead of digging a grave in the impenetrable clay underfoot, Esa swung Frank’s sledgehammer again. Still the wooden altar stood in the smoldering ashes, mocking their efforts:

 

**You Know Not What You Do**


	18. Chapter 18

#  18

In Esa’s room Tuck stared into his reflection. The dressing table had a low chair made of fancy wrought iron swirls protected by white powder coat. Wordless Esa came in and dropped to the carpet with his back against Tuck’s leg.

“What the hell is happening to me?” Currently Tuck could just as calmly shoot himself.

“Yer survivin’, little guy.”

A crinkle made Tuck glance down. “You’re eating in here?”

Esa dumped a corner of mix-ins into his yogurt. “Yup.”

“Kinda girly snack.”

“Eh, all food’s kinda girly. Ya put it in yer mouth and swallow.”

Tuck snorted and reached down to tussle Esa’s hair. “You are seriously fucked.”

“Yup.” He licked the spoon before scooping up another bite. “And yer gettin’ there.”

“Yeah.”

Tuck couldn’t meet his own gaze. Instead he watched the other man eat without a care. Soon the mosquito bites on his shoulders again dominated his attention, and Tuck rubbed against the chair back, hoping for any relief.

“Dude, I’d give you a dozen roses and a reach-around for a decent back scratch.”

“Oh?” That piqued Esa’s interest. “What about that thing Roxy did?”

Contorted, struggling to reach both itchy spots at once, he replied, “Yeah, no problem.”

Nails down his back brought instant relief. As Esa dug deeper, Tuck leaned in, his eyes threatening to roll back into his skull.

“Pull up ya shirt,” Esa instructed. Once Tuck did, he added, “No ticks. But maybe yer ’lergic. Mighty swollen.”

Minutes of sheer bliss later, that ecstasy fell away.

Then the bed creaked. “My turn.”

“Okay, roll over.” Tuck wandered that way.

“Oh, no, Roxy said it’d be better without the scars.”

“Seriously?” Tuck shook his head. “Fine.”

A few gentle sweeps up from Esa’s waist and down to his hands and back left Tuck’s back muscles screaming. “Screw it.” He stripped to his underwear, removing the necklace with five rings now, and straddled Esa’s hips. “This had better be worth it for one of us.”

Esa pulled back, features narrowed. “Ya ain’t kiddin’. This hurts.”

“Oh, man, sorry.”

Before Tuck could get up, Esa grabbed Tuck’s hips. “Not that, dumbass. It’s just too… Too much.”

“Too intimate?” Tuck could certainly agree there.

“No. Well, maybe.”

“Exposed? Vulnerable?”

“Sure, whatever. Just get on with it. I gotta know if that was a one-off or real.”

Ignoring everything else, Tuck concentrated on the sensation of smooth flesh under his hands, the rhythm of his motion, and the soft hiss of skin against skin. The action hypnotic, Tuck let his eyes close and felt his way across Esa’s body, hard muscles under taunt skin.

When his thumbs again grazed tiny, erect nipples, curiosity got the better of Tuck. He let the rhythm fall away as he dragged his palms across the other man’s solid chest. One firm pinch teased a moan from Esa.

Even as he jerked back into the pillow, he stirred between Tuck’s legs. “Ya know that thing’s got a mind of its own.” Hot hands skimmed up Tuck’s sides. “And so do I.” The sheer power of the man’s grip left Tuck awed. “And I wanna hurt ya so bad my teeth ache.”

Nervous, Tuck licked his lips. Throat tight, he struggled to whisper, “Then do it. Hurt me.”

Nothing in life had prepared Tuck for the moment when his ribs compressed. He couldn’t draw a half breath and found himself instantly panting as if he’d been running for an hour. Certain he’d be bruised, he struggled for air against Esa’s crushing grip.

Tuck expected to panic at the sensation, but instead he trusted Esa to hurt him plenty without harming him. The foreign idea fought for room among all the thoughts that had plagued him since Dee died. _No, since I murdered Dee._ Tuck refused to sugarcoat that fact, to let himself off the hook so easily. Instead he yielded to Esa, seeking his own mortification of the flesh.

And Esa brought the pain. From the ribs, up the arms, up to the wrists, his rough caress etched the secrets of the universe into Tuck’s yielding muscles. That summoned the image of Colt, cutting, but bright sparks of agony chased away that ghost and its cloak of misery.

The bruising handprints would show tomorrow, yet Tuck couldn’t bring himself to care.

One jerk and Esa held his wrists at the small of his back, forcing him into an exaggerated arch. His ribcage flared as his lungs expanded.

Teeth sank at his collar bone, his Adam’s apple, his jaw. Tuck whimpered, confused by the way this sharp pain drew him from the floating world of bliss instead of taking him deeper. Yet he accepted it as the price for becoming a monster. He hadn’t hesitated, hadn’t even questioned if he should pull the—

“Aaaah! Fuck!” Lightning ran up his arms from gentle presses between the bones in his wrists.

“Mmm, fuck yes.” Esa’s deep, satisfied growl burrowed through Tuck, unleashing a flutter in its wake. Both wrists secured in one large hand, the other found his throat and squeezed until darkness danced at the edges of his vision. In Tuck’s ear, straight into his brain, Esa promised, “I’m gonna break ya.”

Judging by the curve forced into his back, Tuck had no doubt of that. Yet one thought dominated his mind: “How can you smell so alive? Like sunlight on lush grass after a storm.”

“Nobody’s ever complained.” Esa pulled his hips deeper into the mattress before bucking Tuck upward. He toppled Tuck to the side and rolled atop him. “My own personal superpower.” One hand still held Tuck’s behind his back, the other latched onto Tuck’s jaw and twisted his head to the side so Esa could nip the tender flesh under his ear.

One rough finger pressed against Tuck’s lips until he allowed it inside. Eyes closed, he mapped the coarse fingerprint with his tongue before sucking in earnest, the act soothing to his frayed nerves as Esa pushed him back.

Arms trapped by Tuck’s own weight, Esa released his grip. “Leave ’em there.”

Tuck didn’t bother to reply. Instead he bit Esa’s fingertip. It disappeared, replaced with firm lips and exploring tongue.

“Ya’ll feel me in yer every fiber come mornin’,” Esa promised. “Let go of everythin’ ya think ya know.”

As he pulled away, Tuck’s lips made a kissy smack, causing an embarrassed blush to warm his cheeks.

“This calls for music.” Esa strode to the dresser and fired up his laptop. Soon, slow, twangy honky-tonk drifted from the small speakers. On the screen Hank Williams III stared from the Cadillac where his grandfather died.

Esa opened the door to the hallway. “We’re busy, but it’s gonna be a hell of a show. If ya come in, don’t speak. Not a fuckin’ whimper.” Then he shut it, sealing them again in their own separate world.

So much for the down low. Tuck stiffened in annoyance but remained as he’d been posed, his attention rapt on Esa as he dug in the closet.

“Pain ain’t what ya think it is.” Out came an enormous black duffle on wheels. “It’s so much more. It does things to ya that ya’d never expect. If ya build it slow and don’t cross the lines, the pleasure… The pleasure can carry ya for weeks afterward. Every breath, another reminder.

“And as much as I’d like to lick yer tears while ya scream, that ain’t on the menu.” From one side pocket he selected a variety of condoms and single-use packs of lubricant, some with long, thin nozzles. He added an open box of black nitrile gloves. “At least not today.

“Look straight ahead. Nah, I take that back. Watch me. Don’t make a sound. Just watch an’ listen.” From a second side pocket he pulled a sealed pack of jade-green rope and a pair of safety scissors with rounded tips.

Esa’s eyes glazed, fixed on a point in the distance. Vague flickers, emotions Tuck read as cruelty and longing, touched his features: a slight upturn at the corner of his mouth, a tic at the apple of his cheek, a hint of crow’s feet that would deepen with age. In that moment Esa was more enticing than any man had a right to be.

He shook off his daze, then unzipped the top panel of the duffle and searched inside. “First we’re gonna find a nice, vulnerable position that can both challenge yer muscles and allow ya to relax. Then I’ll make sure ya stay that way.”

A mailing tube emerged from the bag. “Heavy as hell.” He pried at the staple on one end, finally resorting to his teeth. He spat the little mangle of wire into his abandoned yogurt container. “Yers and yers alone.” He removed the cap and tipped the tube so a thick black-and-turquoise mass slid free with the distinct scent of traditionally tanned leather.

“Yer in control. Remember that. If ya stop answerin’, game’s over. More, less; faster, slower; harder, softer; wait, stop; those are all yers for the askin’.”

Dozens of tails shook free, untangled from their handle. Esa draped them over Tuck’s chest so he could feel their heft. “Thirty-six one-inch-wide, spiral-cut falls of supple, oiled cowhide. Lead loaded hilt for balance.” He placed his finger at the pommel and lifted until the falls hung free with the handle level. “Prob’ly the finest tool I’ve owned in my life.”

He twirled the flail in a figure eight. When Tuck’s eyes grew wide, he chuckled, already pleased with the effect. “Don’t worry, little guy. I’ll build slow. Find ya sweet spot. I figure yer good for ’bout half an hour. A decent warm up. If?”

Tuck gaped, uncertain how to take such an offer. “Yeah — yes, sir. Then?”

“Fast on the pickup. I’ll let that question slide. This time.” He snickered again, already lost in his twisted fantasy. “Then ya’ll be weak as a kitten, an’ I’ll be mellow. All lovey dovey. I’ll make ya come so hard yer mind goes as numb as yer body.” With a smile that chilled the marrow in Tuck’s bones, Esa added, “An’ then I’ll take my own.” His lips bushed Tuck’s. “If?”

“Please?” The word sounded small for the elated mix of terror and lust stoked in the pit of Tuck’s stomach.

“Gladly.” Esa peeled the cellophane from the rope and tied a loop in one end. “Keep ya Calvin Kleins. Lay at the foot of the bed. Head away from the door. And flip over. Ya back’s able to enjoy a lot more.”

When Tuck shifted his shoulders to free his arms, he sighed in relief. He hadn’t realized how much strain they’d held. Once he lay flat on his stomach, he raised both arms over his head, so the blood could flow freely.

Esa felt along Tuck’s sides. “Shove a pillow under ya hips, yer way too limp.”

Tuck positioned himself, his ass far too exposed for his liking, even covered. As he smoothed his cock against his stomach, he muttered, “I don’t feel all that limp.”

“Stretched muscles transfer the thud deeper.” Esa slid the loop over Tuck’s right hand, closing his palm over the knot. “This stuff’s got plenty of give. Ya ain’t trapped, but please, struggle.” He pulled Tuck’s arm down by his side. “To protect the soft bits if I happen to misjudge.” The rope ran under Tuck so the next loop slipped over his opposite ankle, then the other. “And it’ll keep ya from shiftin’ so fast I can’t adjust.” The final loop slipped over Tuck’s left hand, and Esa cut the rope. “Mostly I use it to keep the hands outta the way. Hands’re way too delicate for a real hit. ’Course we ain’t playin’ that hard tonight.”

Eyes dry from staring, Tuck blinked a few times.

“Ya alright in there?” The question fell far more gently than Esa’s perverse intentions.

“Yes, sir,” Tuck whispered, afraid to break his silence.

“Not a one off,” Esa muttered to himself. His fingers walked across Tuck’s back. “I’m gonna strangle that sweetness. My first chance to tear ya apart, and I feel almost sane.” His chuckle rippled through Tuck’s skin as kisses fluttered, petal soft, between his shoulder blades. “It won’t save ya.”

“I don’t wanna be saved.” Tuck wanted to offer tears and screams, wanted to atone for the lives he’d taken, but fear, and the certainty he’d regret it, kept the words stuck in his throat. “Break me,” he offered instead.

“Yer wish is my command.”

Esa twirled the whip in a quick figure eight, so the falls sung through the air. Again he draped the whip over Tuck, but this time, after they retreated, they returned in a heavy caress. Next they snapped across him, and Tuck jerked in surprise. He clung to the knots and flexed into the intoxicating sensation.

Fast, light strikes skimmed from neck to toe and back again. For the next pass, they whizzed as they flicked across him, the sting intense enough that his instincts demanded he pull away. Yet his flinches couldn’t escape the vicious bite of the leather.

Pass after pass, Esa drew him deeper into their game.

“Talk to me,” he demanded.

“It’s… like a million bees.”

“Good. I think yer ready to start.”

_Start?_

A jarring thump sank hollowly through Tuck’s thighs, rippling and echoing. He grunted, a tremor shivering through him.

“Raise up for me when yer ready for the next one.”

Those words swirled amongst the toffy in Tuck’s brain, but once he understood them, he lifted his hips, anxious for another taste of Esa’s affection.

The thump across his ass knocked him flat, left him gasping.

“Too much?” Esa asked.

“Is never enough,” Tuck replied.

“Oh, I’m gonna enjoy this. Up, when yer ready.”

Control, Tuck realized, was a very subjective thing, and so was trust. Chest against the bed, he rose to his knees, his softest bits fully vulnerable.

“More it is.”

A long moment, nothing. Always that chance to back out.

Then heat blazed across him. With jerks and yelps, fire traveled down his thighs and then his calves. His bottom lip bled, hardly noticed. The burn and crush of his muscles drew a whimper with each strike until Tuck relented, collapsing flat and struggling to catch his breath.

“Havin’ fun yet?”

“I don’t even know.” The sheer violence of each strike left him awed, his pain, a forgotten relic. The overwhelming sensations brought only a deep yearning for: “More.”

“Whenever yer ready.”

Over and again, they repeated their dance. Tuck’s muscles throbbed in time with his thumping heart. His ribs ached, stretching for more air even as the falls pummeled them again. No inch remained untouched in this shocking and fierce world.

Tuck registered how strange things had gone when he stared at his own hands clasped at the back of his head, which was covered in black feathers instead of hair. He couldn’t recall letting go of the rope. The next impact made him jerk and stiffen, his knuckles white as his hands clutched. Another landed hard across his shoulders, leaving him stunned.

“Still with me?”

_Yes, sir._

Tuck turned to Esa but found a tiger head with canines so long they reached past his jaw. His mint-frost eyes held no white at all. Stripes of inky scales across skin the lambent green of mineral water in sunlight, he brought to mind some great, ancient river cat that should never have walked on land.

“Talk to me, little guy.”

_I am._

An airy sigh near the door drew Tuck’s attention. Lined up along that wall and the dresser sat not only Roxy and Caweeta but also Miguel, Isbet, and Kwan. Motionless as statues, they watched, transfixed.

Velveted purple antlers curled and branched high over Caweeta, her head that of a deer. Her doe eyes twinkled in the vibrant tanzanite of the cheap jewelry on every shopping channel. Twining vines climbed the sienna-brown woman she inhabited, the triplet leaves of poison ivy an unnatural, dappled violet.

Tuck searched for oddness in the others but too soon blinked from inside himself. His entire frame shook from a heavy hand at his shoulder.

“Hey, c’mon back, little guy.”

“I’m here,” he managed to whisper, his throat dry and rough. He rolled over and stared up, relieved to see Esa no longer resembled the river cat of local lore. “I’m here,” he repeated, more certain this time that he’d actually spoken.

Esa glanced to the nightstand. “Crap. Be right back.” He snagged a blue disposable cup from his bag, then strode into the bathroom. When he returned, he held the cup out. “Drink it.”

Tuck sat. He took the cup greedily and upended it, spilling most in a cool wash down his heaving chest. When he held the empty cup out to Esa, he refilled it and handed it back. This time Tuck managed to get most of the water in his mouth. “Thanks.”


	19. Chapter 19

#  19

“Yer gonna start shivering soon. Lay back so I can get a blanket over ya.”

“Wait…”

Esa froze as if they were playing Redlight.

“If it’s that intes… inens… in-ten-se at newbie, what’s advant… advacn…” Tuck grunted in frustration. “For big boys?”

“Oh, fuck you, little guy.” A grin split Esa’s face. “Ya know I can’t say no to that. I should. Oh, I really should. And I can’t.”

“Just once. So you know you won’t hurt me.”

With a snort of humor, Esa’s grin turned predatory. “One real hit. Oh, this will hurt. I guarantee that.”

Tuck lay back down, intent to resume his position.

“Nah. That’s no good.” Esa tugged the pillow from under him. “Just grab yer elbows to protect ya kidneys. I don’t know how wide this will be.” His wrists popped as the falls began to twirl. The whip sang in intricate patterns as he shuffled back two steps. “If ya had any sense, ya’d beg me to stop.”

“I’m in control?”

“Yes.” Esa nodded, flushed from far more than just his exertion.

“Then make me scream.”

“Fuck. Remember ya ask—”

“I’m not asking.”

Esa straightened. Deep in concentration, he passed the whip from hand to hand as it whizzed, gaining speed. “Last chance to—”

“Do it.”

Esa obeyed, arm straight, bending from his waist, dropping from his knees.

The falls crushed level into Tuck.

White-hot pain.

A ragged howl.

Muscles rigid.

Suffocating.

A gulp of air.

Ribs protesting.

A breathless wail.

Shaking.

Misery.

Regret.

 

Atonement.

 

A soft press under his eye. “Maybe it is today.” Esa kissed another tear from Tuck’s cheek. “But yer spent, little guy.”

“I’m t-taller than aver—” His words dissolved, the thought lost.

“Rather I call ya my fluffy bunny?”

With the intent of shoving Esa to the bed, Tuck struggled until one hand dropped onto the other man’s lap. “How ’b-bout lord and, and, and master?” That started the giggles.

“As you command,” Esa replied, dead serious, “my lord and master.”

Incredulous, Tuck squeaked out, “What h-have I done?”

Esa curled around him, a sensuous slither of flesh. “Ya broke me.”

“I b-broke you?” Tuck wanted to burst into sobs; he hadn’t intended to break Esa.

“You were better than I dared dream. Too gorgeous to look full-on. Fuck it; I’m yers. I’ll never be able to deny ya anything after that.”

“But… other p-people take m-more than that.”

“Oh, one of mine could take twenty of those and beg for more.” Esa guided Tuck to lay on his side, then smoothed down his hair. “But she ain’t haunted my dreams all my life.” Esa placed Tuck’s palm on the bigger man’s still-heaving chest; his heart beat strong and fast. “I’m done. There is no greater high left to chase.”

“What ab-bot, abo-out the fuck.” Not what he meant, but as close as he could get to asking if Esa wouldn’t get higher from the sex afterward.

“Yers for the askin’. I am yers, my lord and master.”

“St-top that.”

“Sure.” Esa chuckled, a deep, rich sound that stirred wicked desires deep in Tuck. “My little huckleberry.”

Roxy’s stifled giggle startled Tuck; he’d forgotten everyone else existed.

Esa’s temper riffled under his skin as he stood. “Anyone who ain’t climbin’ in this bed to fuck, get the hell out.”

Everyone filed through the door, Kwan last. He turned at the threshold. “Can touch him?” Tuck hadn’t exactly heard him speak before. His lack of subject and the heavy glottal stops suggested he’d lived most of his life on the far side of the Pacific.

Esa stepped back. “It’s up to him.”

Tuck shrugged, barely. “Sure, why not?”

“Not seen a whipping like that since a young man in army.” He stepped close to the bed. “Always wonder—”

“It’s okay,” Tuck insisted. “I don’t mind.”

Two gnarled hands prodded across his back. “Hurts?”

“Hurts to breathe. And I think it’s gonna be agony in the morning.” _But I’ve earned this and more. Shit, and now I’m thinking like Esa._

To Esa Kwan said, “No Boy Scout; knots need work.”

“You gonna help me?”

“Yes, will help.” To Tuck, he added, “Thank you.” With that the old man bowed, then slipped out the door.

“Reckon he’s havin’ fun ’fore he dies?”

“I reckon so,” Tuck replied. “Wonder if he’d like to kill the next one. Or thirty.”

“Seems he’s done his share.” Esa stretched out, tight by Tuck’s side. “How ya copin’?”

“You see it.”

“Yeah.” The bigger man massaged his arms. “Like shit. Ain’t easy holdin’ death.”

The first shiver ran through Tuck. “How the hell can I be cold?”

“It’ll pass.” Esa walked to the closet. “Blanket for my lord and master?”

“Fine, I’ll be your huckleberry.”

The laptop continued pouring out new-age honkytonk: _When you're losin', like a loser, who's got nothin' to lose, some folks might just give it all up, and end up black and blue._

Tuck added, “And maybe some different music?”

Esa handed him a plush white blanket, and a few clicks later, a psychobilly band wailed about gasoline while the bass thumped madly.

The bed dipped by Tuck.

Esa nuzzled him onto his back, then straddled him, blanket and all. Under Esa’s thick lashes, those icy-gray irises had a ring of wintergreen around the pupil. As he traced Tuck’s jawline with a knuckle, he blinked. Slow and calm, tame.

Tuck said, “You’re gorgeous like that too.”

Esa pulled his face toward his chest, squinting and hiding.

“And _now_ you’re bashful?”

A deep rumble of amusement brought Esa back into view. “Now I’m vulnerable.”

Tuck wrestled an arm free. “No, now you’re mine.” He hooked Esa’s neck and drew him closer.

“Oh, huckleberry, I should never—”

Tuck grabbed Esa’s fist before it could find his yellowing bruise. “You liked it. I’m fine. No reason both of us should be busted up in penance.”

Esa grimaced, everything pulled tight. “If I’d known that, I definitely wouldn’t—” A soft knock at the door drew his brows into a knot. “What?!”

The door cracked an inch. Roxy said, “Caweeta’s on the couch with Kwan discussing ancient… Well, no, its… Tuck didn’t crawl my ass about climbing on the church roof…”

Esa’s quickly pantomimed question got Tuck’s nod of approval before he told her, “Come in and close the door.”

“Thanks.” She stared at the floor. Finding no answers there she glanced at the men before studying the far wall.

Tuck patted the bed beside him.

“Horny?” Esa asked, an eager gleam in his eye.

She sat beside them, still interested in everything else in the room. Words distant, she said, “You two surprise me. Together you’re amazing.”

That brought on the giggles again. “Together we’re monsters.” This time Tuck could feel the damage, and he moaned with each shake and gasp.

Roxy folded her hands in her lap. When she’d beaten around enough bushes to find the proper thought, her attention fell on them.

Her piercing gaze scorched Tuck to his core. She knew their every secret. They were indeed vulnerable.

To her.

Their entire world rested on her. Her decisions, her judgment. She could tear them down in an instant, rip their souls apart in ways that might never heal. She wouldn’t, but he knew for an absolute fact that she held both their futures in her delicate hands.

“You’re irresistible together, something fundamental like gravity. And I’d like to… stay.”

Esa exchanged a quick glance with Tuck. Whatever he saw brought a sly grin to his face. He turned back to her. “So that little demonstration left your princess bits all tingly?”

“Princess bits?” She covered her face. “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Not an answer.”

Tuck could practically feel the heat as she blushed. If he bit his lip any harder, it’d bleed again, but damn if she wasn’t adorable as she shied from Esa’s intensity.

“Yes. Okay, yes. Very tingly.”

“Yes, what?”

Scarlet from head to toe, she again stared at the floor. “Yes, sir.” She seemed ready to spontaneously combust.

“Evil always surrenders its throne to grace.” Esa stood, then bowed with a flourish in invitation for her to lay atop Tuck in his stead. “How may I amuse you, sweetness?”

Instead she sat by Tuck. She slipped her hand into his and squeezed. Twitching from nerves, she asked Esa, “You’re always taking care of other people. How can I amuse you?”

“How can _we_ amuse you?” Tuck corrected as he sat up.

“Oh, I’m quite amused.”

Tuck was having none of that. “You know what we mean. What do you want? What would you like?”

“I don’t work like that.”

“Then what would you suggest for us to want?” Tuck challenged.

Esa’s finger tapped against his thigh as he considered. Gaze scalding, he asked “What’s available?”

Stumped Tuck needed a second to consider exactly how far he wanted to go with this.

That question made Roxy swallow hard. “Anything. Whatever you’d like.” She glanced up, panic in her eyes. “Within moderate reason.”

Esa leaned against Tuck, one hand raised to stop his reply. “Show us.”

Bra first, then panties and shorts, she stripped down. She raised the hem of her shirt to show her pert, pink nipples before she lifted her tee over her head to drop by the rest of her clothes. Then she pirouetted, her legs too rigid for fluid grace. For a long moment she stood at the foot of the bed with her back to them.

Facing away from them, she lowered to her knees and then dropped her head and chest to the carpet. Her hair laced out in every direction until she smoothed it to her right and overhead.

“Show us,” Esa repeated more softly.

With trembling fingers, she opened her lips to expose her glistening core.

“Is that all?”

That simple question made her puckered rosebud jump.

“That’s what I thought.”

When his broad hand settled at the small of her back, her strangled groan made Tuck ache. He slid down and knelt beside them. While running fingertips along her jaw and then her throat, his other arm twined around Esa’s leg, ending with a brazen caress far up the other man’s inner thigh.

Roxy rocked back to sit on her heels. Dreamily she gazed up at Esa as her hand again entangled with Tuck’s. “Then take what’s yours. Both of you.” She opened her mouth wide and stuck her tongue out in eager invitation.

“My eyes are up here, sweetness. No, ya ain’t no vulgar little minx neither.” He tugged her hair, bringing her chin upward. As if he generated his own electric aura, the air practically crackled among them. “Both y’all have seen the hellfire in my eyes, and now ya wanna play with it? Reckon some folks gotta learn the hard way.”

Before Tuck could react Esa placed a hand to either side of Roxy’s skull, lifted her over his head, and threw her onto the bed.

Then he turned for Tuck. Rough hands shoved into his armpits. Hefted and tossed but unhurt, Tuck shook off the shock of being manhandled.

“You two think ya wanna know what I want?” Esa chuckled, dark and sinister. “I want you.” He paced at the foot of the bed, animated though his gestures remained restrained. “The blood in yer veins, the meat on yer bones, all of ya: Mine.” For a few seconds he paused, studying them like a cat might watch a pair of finches.

He hooked one hand under Tuck’s knee. “Huckleberry, I want every spear ya shove in yer side over Colt and Dee. Every nightmare. Every scream. Mine.”

“And you, sweetness.” His fingers skimmed up Roxy’s calf. “Every time ya struggle to know yerself, I wanna savor it. Yer every frustration. Mine.

“I want yer fear and yer pain, yer joy and yer pleasure. I want more than yer minds, bodies, and souls. Give me the atoms of yer creation until the stars cease to shine. All that ya are, all that ya were, and all that ya’ll ever be: Mine.

“Now’s the time to run.” His icy stare drilled into one and then the other. “Run fast and run far because, once yer mine, I’ll never set ya free.” Esa stalked to the door. “If yer here when I get back, I’m not gonna make love to ya. I’m not gonna fuck ya. I’m gonna claim ya. All of ya. As my own. No ’til death. Mine. Forever.”


	20. Chapter 20

#  20

Tuck knew he should run, only looking back once he was halfway across the state, yet his legs hadn’t even twitched like a sleeping dog’s. Minutes passed before he said, “Dude’s not kidding.”

“So why are we still here?” Roxy radiated raw emotions, all of them at once.

“Have you ever felt more alive?”

“No.” Her vulnerable beauty stung his eyes.

“Me neither.” All he could do was stare. _Exquisite._ Then he let a hand reach for her. “Screw it.” Wearing a dopey grin, he gingerly combed through her hair. “He’s right, you are the sweetness in life. I never meant to upset you; I just wanted to protect you.”

“And…?”

“And?”

“And you’re sorry you treated me like something too delicate to let off my pedestal?”

“I am. Sorry I put you on a pedestal.” Tuck broke eye contact with her, embarrassed by his further admission, “Because I couldn’t bear the thought of you being hurt. But life hurts, and we have such a little time to live.”

“Thank you for seeing that. I’m careful. That’s the best I can offer.” She propped up on an elbow. “And you’re okay with this package deal? I broke it off, so if you want me to go, I will.”

“Are you happy?”

“Mmm, very.”

“Then stay. Please stay.”

Their lips met, tongues exploring as if they were new lovers. Entangled, they let their hurt melt away, the divide closing more with each timid touch. Nothing mattered to Tuck beyond Roxy’s contented sighs as minutes ticked by.

Then Tuck remembered where they were. A violent shiver rippled along his back, and both arms shook while he fought to remain calm. “Aren’t you scared?”

“Oh, yes, terrified. Like a bride on her wedding night, times insanity.” She lay her head on his bare chest. “But nothing has ever felt so good, so right. It’s like the entire universe conspired to bring me to this point, and I’m determined to see this through, consequences be damned.”

Her nipple between his swirling thumb and forefinger, Tuck asked softly, “Do you love him?”

“Don’t you?” A tickling caress followed the scant hair down his belly.

“It’s more than love, like some mystic devotion.”

“Like there’s nothing more important, more fundamental, than placing yourself at his feet and knowing he’s pleased with you?”

“I won’t go that far, but I’ve felt it. That first time, the canoodling as Caweeta called it. I couldn’t understand why I wanted to please him, but I couldn’t bear not to.” Tuck pressed his lips to her forehead, noting her fine sheen of sweat and then his own. “I don’t think he’s any more human than Caweeta. Does he smell odd to you?”

“Like bittersweet summer memories? Your half-forgotten childhood?” Her caress slipped under the elastic waistband of his underwear.

“Yeah.” Tuck sighed at the gentle brush of her fingers. “And, out there at the church, he made me take control. Knew precisely how to make me strong enough to…” _murder Dee._ “Take care of business.”

“Ever seen a picture of him?”

“No?”

Roxy turned over and snatched her phone from the nightstand. After a moment she held it out to him. “Look at this.”

The man in the picture bore a resemblance to Esa, sure, but it couldn’t be him. “You sure this is the right pic? This guy looks like Danny Trejo and Whoopi Goldberg had a love child.”

“Then that’s the right pic. My best guess, his pheromones play with our perception.”

As Tuck handed the phone back to her, the door swung open. Still wearing only his underwear, Esa stepped through, kicking it shut. He held a dessert plate, a wad of napkins tucked under his elbow. Red-rimmed eyes downcast, he plodded forward, bringing the reek of too many cigarettes at once. Three steps later, he glanced to the bed.

Then he froze.

And stayed that way.

Finally he asked, “Ya do know I meant I’ll hunt ya down and kill ya if ya ever abandon me?”

Tuck’s left shoulder lifted without thought. “Gotta die somehow.” Once he’d have fainted outright at that threat; now he shrugged it off despite his certainty that it was true.

Roxy gave a single slow nod. “Yes.”

“I don’t think you quite heard me.” Eyes closed, chin to chest, Esa barely breathed. “I won’t be optional or dumped or forgotten or left or ignored. Ya can’t toss me aside like the used-up whore I am.” A tremor rippled through him. “What’s mine never walks free again. Try to put me on a shelf, and I’ll mount yer head over the mantle.” His fists clenched. “I mean it: I’ll kill ya if ya abandon me.” Only then did his icy stare return.

Roxy rolled free of Tuck’s embrace. She slid from the bed to drop to her knees in front of Esa. Head bowed, she offered herself to him, a gift more precious and complete than any other. “It’s only right.”

Her words hit Tuck below his sternum as hard as a fist. In his heart, he couldn’t argue the thought, but the idea clashed with his sense of justice. Could he really do this? Marriage was one thing, but utter devotion until the end of time with a sword over his neck in case he failed? That was an entirely different commitment, a spiritual covenant that extended beyond any religious experience he’d ever known.

Deliberately holding Esa’s gaze, Tuck followed Roxy’s steps and sunk down beside her. “After all, we are yours.”


	21. Chapter 21

#  21

Tuck had always known Esa Bo Morgan to be a man of more emotion than thought — he could have written tomes on Esa’s rage — but to witness his genuine happiness? That made Tuck’s heart stutter.

This time, no malice lurked behind Esa’s smile. Radiant joy cut through his sadistic leanings to the tiny spark of his soul left untouched by the traumas of his life.

Even after his anticipation of rejection had washed away, he stood stunned. Once he placed his snack on the dresser, he knelt facing Tuck. “I’ve wanted ya so bad for so long.”

Tuck whispered, “Loved.”

“Hmm?”

“You’ve loved me all that time.”

“Yes.” The time for words ended as Esa’s lips crushed against his own.

Relaxed but eager, Tuck held tight as he leaned back, pulling the larger man atop him. His need felt insatiable. Even pressed skin to skin, they could never be close enough. Thoughts lost in a haze of lust, his body sought Esa’s possessive crush with abandon.

The bigger man’s cock lay silky and warm in Tuck’s palm as his fingers curled around it. Any other time, he’d have been racking his brain to remember what he liked best; instead he simply acted, too caught up in the moment for worry.

“Told ya you’d be happy to do it,” Esa mumbled, resuming their kiss before Tuck could reply.

Experimental yet bold, the men explored their bodies with nothing off limits. In full abandon, Tuck surrendered his last bit of resistance. Allowing his identity to fade and shift, he become a new person in Esa’s arms, someone who no longer comprehended anything beyond their embrace.

Which made Esa’s tugging the sheet from the bed all the more confusing. Until the condoms and lube landed beside them.

“Bareback.” The word made Tuck’s voice crack like a boy’s.

“I don’t do—. Your wish,” Esa said, dropping the foil packet in favor of the lubricant, “is my command.”

When fingers looped Tuck’s waistband, he lifted his hips, letting himself be stripped. He expected to be told to roll over. Instead Esa tossed one leg over his shoulder and guided the tiny tube inside him to release the liquid with a slight chill.

Then Esa shed his underwear to spread the remainder over his shaft.

This time he didn’t ask, didn’t pause, he simply took. Tuck’s knees over his thighs, he pressed for entry until Tuck’s body relented to his will. Assuming he could feel pain after Esa’s earlier affection, he knew none in the moment.

Each thrust delved a scant inch deeper, until a burst of pleasure erupted in Tuck. His gasp became a moan. “What the hell was that?”

Esa snickered. “Ya prostate, if I had to guess.”

Balls deep, he rocked in shallow strokes. No less invasive, his gaze studied Tuck’s every expression as if memorizing him in this moment.

Though relaxed, Tuck’s heart thrashed wildly in its efforts to escape the cage of his ribs. The core of his being dominated his attention, as if Esa stroked his soul. He let his head fall back, savoring the ecstasy that coursed along his every nerve.

With a rough grab of his cock, Esa turned that blissful moment into a frenzied desire. “Your throne still awaits, sweetness. All hard and ready.” He held a condom out to her.

“I planned to let… Yes, sir.” Roxy waved off the prophylactic. She stood, turned away from Tuck, and straddled him.

“Oh? Gonna face me, then?” Esa’s amusement teased down Tuck’s spine.

Sitting on his belly, she felt so slight compared to Esa. Tiny hands slicked his cock, then guided it inside her. Mirroring Esa’s motions, she bucked and writhed. With a sharp gasp, her body gripped him tightly, a sure sign someone had found her clit.

A _chonk_ of teeth against something hard and Esa demanded, “What’s this?”

“Pineapple. You smell like an ashtray.”

“My apologies, sweetness. I’d expected—”

Their rhythm disrupted, Tuck let out a frustrated grumble.

“Yes, dear,” Esa mocked. “Back to work, dear.”

Tuck gasped, the next strokes harder by both of them. Muscles wound tight, he fought for his next breath. Hands on Roxy’s hips, he ground into her sweet torment. Head tilted, she leaned into Esa. The passion of their kiss thrummed through Tuck’s groin, a buzz arcing between them.

At the precipice, he fought the draw pulling him over, hoping to prolong this delicious torment just a moment longer. Then a squeeze of his balls sent him hurtling into the pleasure of his release before he could even warn Roxy.

“Don’t worry, huckleberry. I’m right behind you.” With another few strokes, Esa jerked and trembled accompanied by an inhuman rumble of pure satisfaction.

Tuck’s leg dropped free. Esa withdrew slowly, as if reluctant to surrender his prize now that he’d claimed it. While Tuck lay helpless below Roxy, she trailed her hair across his chest and stomach, tickling, before she eased from him.

As one they panted.

“Time to wash up for round two.” Esa went to the bathroom but left the door open as the water ran.

By the time Roxy returned in a cloud of fruity scents, her bun covered with a glove since she didn’t have a shower cap, Tuck thought maybe, just maybe, he could stand. As long as he used the bed for support. Once he reached the bathroom, he sat on the toilet, surprised to find every part of his body exactly where he’d left it.

The tub taunted him, both inviting and treacherously slick. Careful to keep one hand on something solid, he set the water for the hottest he could stand and let it cascade over him. The warmth penetrated his tired muscles, relaxing them considerably. A dab of soap where most needed and he was as close to washed as he could manage.

On his way back to the bed, he checked his back in the mirror: covered in wide, curving bruises that had just begun to darken. He chuckled as he opened the door. “Dumbass.”

“…hasn’t arrived yet. I wish it had, sweetness. You’ll love it.”

From the bed, Roxy greeted Tuck with a lazy smile. Kneeling swaybacked, her chest rested against the bed, arms lost in the untamed sea of her hair. This time the exposing pose seemed perfectly natural, no longer an overwrought presentation but a true expression of her surrender.

Esa lay propped on his elbow next to her. He bit his tongue in concentration while doodling on her thigh with markers.

Towel around his waist, Tuck sat, back to the headboard, and watched as a flowering vine trailed higher up her leg. With a final petal compete, Esa tapped her ass twice.

She turned upright. “Hey,” she said simply, laying her head in Tuck’s lap. Eyes and smile soft, her radiant expression spoke of love and contentment.

“Hey,” Tuck repeated, certain the three of them were exactly where they should be.

“Hey.” Esa drew their attention. With a caress for both, he sang, “ _My girl, my girl, don’t lie to me; tell me where did you sleep last night? In the pines, in the pines, where the sun doan’ ever shine, I shivered the whole night through. Her husband was a hard workin’ man, jus’ ’bout a mile from here. His head was found in a buggy wheel, but his body n’er was found._ ” A bit pitchy, the old blues standard rose from his soul in a scratchy wail of anticipated loss, like a father knowing his daughter would hang for murder.

Before, Tuck had understood intellectually that Esa had been traumatized in life. Now he felt the damage of the older man’s soul as his own: Nothing good could last beyond a single moment. He pictured no future in his mind, only the present. And if this were his last hour, he wanted to exhaust every remaining second enjoying these two.

Lying on her back, Roxy raised her knees, then let them drop apart, inviting Esa home. Ready for solace, he pressed his face to her with murmurs of bitter joy. A comfortable silence settled over them, broken only by Roxy’s deep, quiet breaths that came ever faster.

At her first whimper, Esa pulled back from her. When he again reached for a condom, she gave a tiny shake of her head. He nodded, then sank into her body.

Tuck’s claiming had been frantic and intense, but Esa took Roxy with delicate grace. Each thrust left Tuck heartbroken for all the pain Esa had endured. No one deserved the shelter of Roxy’s arms more. Obliging she held him to her chest, bearing the brunt of his weight.

When he finally rose over her to generate more force, a tiny droplet landed on her cheek, as the corner of her eye pooled. Were they crying? His only reply, a trickle down his own face at their stark passion.

Needing to feel more of their skin against his, Tuck slipped from under Roxy and lay beside them. Careful to not disrupt their harmony, he reached between them to find her clit. Too gently, he knew, he rubbed in small circles.

When her back arched, he grew bolder, flicking quickly with firm pressure. She pressed into their affections. Her shallow, quick breaths faltered, then stopped. Without even a mewl, she trembled and shook.

Tuck stilled but allowed his hand to remain between them, flat over her sex as she often did. She writhed under them, her lips curled in a beatific smile and her eyes closed.

Esa never faltered. “Soon.”

Roxy made no protest.

He gripped her hips. Faster for only a moment, he threw his head back. Three strokes more and he moaned. Every muscle quivered under his skin as his hips continued with disorganized thrusts.

Tuck pulled his hand from between them to let them share this moment alone.

When Esa withdrew, he launched for the bathroom. Latch engaged and lock thrown, he made not a sound. Though neither did Tuck and Roxy. They lay together, exchanging languid caresses, while they waited for Esa to regain his control.

Several minutes later, he returned. “A thing of beauty is a joy forever, but damn, sweetness, yer agony.”

Tuck grinned. “Isn’t that from a diamond commercial?”

“It’s Keats, ya uncultured swine.” Esa wedged between them and held them both close. “I shoulda been more generous with her, but—”

Tuck waved him off. “You two needed this. Roxy and I know each other already.”

“Thanks.” Esa’s words came in a choked whisper. “I never dared hope…”


	22. Chapter 22

#  22

Tuck woke with a groan from Esa’s handiwork. Every part of him protested even the slightest movement, but he cracked his eyes. Judging by the light, it had to be well into the morning. He lay alone on the floor, the fuzzy blanket rumpled under him.

Six dead, five by his hand, and two of those had been men he’d loved.

Shit. Still his first thought upon waking.

Intent on sitting, he struggled to one side and stopped to breathe. _This and more._ He shoved the taunt away and concentrated on forcing himself upright.

Roxy lay in the bed. A tiny smile lined her lips.

Esa sat at the dresser, focused on his laptop.

They’d fallen asleep entangled together, but Tuck needed more room to breathe and thrash. Now he questioned the wisdom of that decision as he worked a stubborn kink from his neck.

“Don’t you ever sleep?” he grumbled at Esa.

“I’ll fall over eventu’ly. Takin’ tonight off for that.”

Tuck struggled to one knee before he had to stop.

“Ya need more water, huckleberry.” In the bathroom he filled two cups, one he placed on the nightstand and the other he handed to Tuck. “Ya need calories too.”

“Ugh, food sounds like the last thing I want right now.”

“Ya’ll change yer mind once ya smell it. Gimme ’bout half an hour.” With that he was gone.

Tuck noted that all the trash from the night before had been removed. “Mighty domestic to be so ornery.” He sipped his water before sitting his cup by Roxy’s.

He stared down at his pillow.

An impossible challenge.

He claimed Esa’s pillow and curled against Roxy, her pleasant sigh signaling her awareness. “How are you?”

“Happy. You?”

“A little overwhelmed. I never expected to sell my soul to a high-end a callboy.”

That made her giggle. “Whatever he charges, it isn’t enough.”

“He’s like some demented fifties housewife. Damn, he even makes it look easy.”

“I worry we’re taking advantage. He cooks and cleans because someone had to take care of Colt. And, well, you know why he’s learned the rest.”

“He plans to sleep tonight, and then he’s got, um, work tomorrow. Maybe Thursday we treat him to something fun in Athens?”

“Barbeque at Pulaski Heights and a stroll through Bear Hollow Zoo?” she suggested.

“Somehow, I don’t think he’s gonna be too hip on anything with cages.”

“The Botanical Gardens then?”

“Why’d we never do that?”

“You were paying; you set the agenda.”

Tuck couldn’t help the scowl that marred his features. “Was it really like that for you?”

“Did we ever go to the Botanical Gardens?”

 

 

By seven Esa snored softly from the bed. Just after eight, Roxy stretched out on the floor, and for once Tuck appreciated her chivalry. They’d have to figure out different sleeping arrangements soon. A quarter to nine, Tuck stood and stretched, ready to join Esa.

In the dark room he stared out the window a long moment. Long enough to see a shadow creeping across the backyard in the dim moonlight. And then another.

He shook Roxy. “Wake everyone,” he whispered. “There’s someone outside. Several someones. And no lights.”

Then he shook Esa. The man hardly stirred. Maybe they could handle this without him. Then again, if they burned this house too, he’d be a crispy critter. “Hey, you gotta wake up, buddy. We’ve got visitors.” When he still didn’t budge, Tuck tugged him to sitting, though Tuck’s every muscle protested. “Don’t make me carry your lunk ass outta here.”

Bleary eyes peered into Tuck’s. “Nah, I can stand.” He rose to prove it and stumbled backward, landing hard on the bed. “Okay, maybe I can’t.”

“Get your shit together. I’ll be right back.”

In the living area, Roxy tapped gently at Isbet’s door, while Caweeta and Kwan grabbed anything that resembled a weapon. Already in motion, they didn’t need him.

But Esa did.

“C’mon,” Tuck urged, forcing the bigger man to settle his weight onto Tuck’s frame.

“I fuckin’ hate bein’ woke up.”

“How long ’til you’ll be steady on your feet?”

“No clue. Prescription sleep aid. And anti-psychotic.”

Tuck deposited Esa on the arm of the couch and joined the hunt for anything heavy or sharp.

“Lamp cord’s a nasty whip,” Esa stated, the words more mangled than his usual drawl. _Strange he wouldn’t suggest one of his own._ “Cuts. Deep.” _Oh…_

“So bring you a lamp?”

“Aw, hell nah, brang me an uzi.”

Revolver in hand, Isbet jabbed her phone with a thumb. “There’s an aluminum baseball bat under the couch.” When someone answered, she turned to the side. “Papá, there’s people here.”

Roxy walked by with a can of hornet spray and a lighter. Not just any improvised flamethrower, this one she could use from a distance. “Anyone have a roll of pennies?”

By Tuck’s count it should be seven on seven, so he felt certain they could keep the assholes at bay until the Calvary arrived. On hands and knees, every breath a new searing agony, Tuck felt for the bat.

Instead he found a short cylinder that he tugged free. He held a capped section of pipe with a bare wire sticking out. “Bomb?” The word alone made his heart stall.

“Drown it in the bathtub,” Esa suggested, though Tuck felt certain he was joking.

Regardless Tuck sat the pipe in the tub as it filled. _The water’s high energy of displacement might prove helpful._ And at least it was out of his hands.

Back at the couch, bracing himself to get on all fours again, Tuck muttered, “We were gone all day yesterday. This place could be—”

 

 

Flickering stars filled Tuck’s vision as he regained his wits. His head, the only thing that hadn’t hurt before now, had thumped hard on the floor after the first concussion ripped through the room, the sound so deafening he lost his balance.

Black smoke clung to the ceiling. Were they just flashbangs, or was the place burning?

A hand reached for him, and he gripped it before he noticed the respirator mask. Instead of standing, he dropped to his back, then kicked the intruder with both feet as hard as he could. With his opponent stunned but not down, Tuck shoved his hand under the couch and hoped with all his might… There, the bat!

He’d intended to roll to his feet, but his body fell short, leaving him kneeling and light headed. No matter, he reared back and swung for the fence straight through the other guy’s knee.

One down.

Tuck got his feet under him. To be certain that one stayed down, he put all his weight into bringing the bat down on the guy’s head.

A quick glance around left him dizzy. The air had grown smokier.

Two assholes pulled Esa toward the door.

 _Why aren’t they killing us?_ His answer repulsed him: the cultists had plans for them.

No matter, Tuck swung.

Two down.

Number three had no intentions of going down easy.

Tuck raised his bat.

Two nasty little hooks bit into his left shoulder. His muscles compressed to rock. He toppled forward as piss ran down his leg. Convulsing, he sobbed in earnest, only able to hope the battery would die before he did.

When they grabbed him, Tuck willed his body to fight, but it refused. Face down in a van, they easily zip-tied his ankles and wrists together. They cinched one so tight his left hand throbbed.

Moments later Caweeta landed beside him with a whoosh from her lungs. She thrashed, but the masked men held her legs, securing them to her wrists. “You window lickers will regret this like you’ve never regretted anything before,” she promised.

They paid her no heed, simply returned to the fray.

Jerking and cursing, already bound, Esa landed atop her a moment later.

“Yes, those are the three,” a vaguely familiar voice announced from the passenger seat. “The Lord says don’t hesitate to end the remaining disciples of Carrion.”

“What the hell? You’ve got us; why hurt them?” Tuck demanded.

“And please gag them before you go. I won’t be interrogated by these faithless.”

“Lil’ Wes?”

“You’re addressing the Prophetic Seer of the Lord, spawn of Carrion,” Wes corrected. “Were it not His Divine Will that you witness the Prophetic Head speak, I’d have ordered your brains dashed from your skull when you murdered the Lord’s Eunuch Scribe.”

_Scribe? Eunuch? They chopped off Colt’s junk?_

“You display the signets of His Lost Sheep with such pride. Yet you all are only helpless prey to His Righteous.”


	23. Chapter 23

#  23

Long hours of limited motion left Tuck’s legs cramping before they cut the zip-ties from his ankles. From what he could tell, they’d driven aimlessly most of the night. The zip-ties that gagged him cut into the corners of his mouth, ensuring he tasted only his own blood that entire time. His left hand went completely numb, and he worried that it’d be dead when its blood flow resumed.

Near the center of town, he toppled last from the back of the van, landing knees first on the gravel in front of the Fort Oconee Jailhouse Museum. The native-stone building stooped at a scant two stories tall, just enough so the floors of the four upstairs cells could swing open for hangings.

Through three-foot thick walls, Tuck barely heard Caweeta’s raving until Shane Hightower shoved him inside the building, his legs too wobbly to walk a straight line.

Shane dragged Tuck upstairs. “One of the locks is broken.” He kicked open the bars to the farthest cell. “Seems the neck iron’s still in good shape though.” Then he slammed Tuck into the far wall. Forged for smaller men, the shackle barely fit Tuck’s neck, and Shane fought to get the padlock closed.

The instant Caweeta stopped ranting, Shane screamed. Desperate for any chance, Tuck shrugged free, dashed to Esa’s cell, and shoved his hands through the bars. The first jarring clank of teeth through plastic brought a frantic hope.

A hope that died with a feminine wail.

Lucy Harris stood over Roxy with a cattle prod. “Behave yourselves,” she instructed, her voice soft and sweet, “or I’ll have to do that again.”

Of all the Reapers so far, she was the first to express even the vaguest regret.

While Roxy lay tiny and helpless, Tuck let Shane clamp the cold iron around his throat.

“Told them she’d be useful,” Lucy said.

Shane replied, “All the disciples of Carrion will serve us well.”

 _They’re still alive?_ “What have you done with them?” Tuck’s question came out unintelligible, only blood-tinged drool and rage.

Shane and Lucy locked Roxy into the last cell, cut the remaining zip-ties, and left without another word.

Tuck’s left hand stung like he’d shoved it into a hornets’ nest. With the chain so short, he sat with his back against the wall, scratching frequently. The golf-ball-sized bites on his back were certainly infected and growing larger.

He only half listened as Caweeta recounted her adventures. After her trip through both hospitals, she found Tika outside a gym, crying and desperate to escape her life. Tika willingly surrendered control, allowing Caweeta to sever her ties to her body.

Unlike Shane, who had clung to his body with tenacity.

Should Tika have any regrets in the next few days, Caweeta offered to return her corporeal form, which meant Caweeta felt duty-bound to keep her body alive.

Despite Tuck’s pleasant company, time stretched into eternity, and he dozed, waking when he began to choke.

When he finally slipped into real sleep, his dark nightmare joined him. “You need me.”

“I never questioned that.” Tuck’s patience had worn thin for cryptic bullshit. “So tell me what to do. How do I get us out of this mess?”

“You don’t. You wait.”

“I don’t know how long I can take this.” Tuck couldn’t even wriggle a finger under the iron that held him.

“As long as it takes. Though he should make his move soon. My altar is sanctified, prepared to accept his martyr. His prophet is sanctified, prepared to become a martyr.”

“Lil’ Wes?”

“Yes. All of his visions have been transcribed to the leather of the innocents.”

“That’s… That’s so wrong I can’t…”

“That is not my doing, and there’s nothing to be done for them now. You can only hope to save yourselves.”

“And what guarantee do I have that you’re not shitting me?”

“None. There’s nothing I can say or do to assure you that I didn’t start this war. I can only ask that you trust me to finish it.”

Curiosity finally got the best of Tuck. He peered through his lashes at the creature. The skeletal man with the rotting head of a vulture was now healed, fully fleshed and feathered. “You’re him. You’re Carrion.”

“I am.”

“You’ve caused all this misery,” Tuck accused.

“My sins are nothing compared to the Reaper’s master.”

“Yeah? And who’s that?”

“Pecari the Ornate. He will take my domain and slaughter you all unless I am freed.”

“You couldn’t have just told me this from the start?”

“It takes a lot of energy to come to you like this.”

“Yet you had plenty enough to toy with our lives?”

“Yours. And others. As has Pecari. He seeks only to bind me, ensure I cannot defend my home.” The demon showed its hooked beak in profile. “And wrought in the blood of innocents, his binding will hold me for centuries to come. For now, however, his efforts only strengthen me.”

“So you let those kids die?”

“I made certain they died!” The demon’s growl felt like rocks grating in Tuck’s chest. “Pecari will not destroy my home and people without challenge. I will end him.” When he turned back to Tuck, he invited, “Join your swords with mine.”

“No, thanks, I’m out. Bring on the firing squad.”

“Believe that for now.”

Tuck knew before he looked that the creature had gone.

 

 

With a Taser aimed at Roxy, Shane watched Lucy’s every move. Even her cold oatmeal in Styrofoam cups looked appetizing this morning. Though she replaced the plastic waste buckets in each cell, the entire jailhouse reeked in the summer heat.

“I should leave you more water than that,” she clucked.

No one felt obliged to reply, even when she brought a second repurposed two-liter soda bottle for each of them.

Instead Tuck stood, thinking about how very much he wanted to make her and all the Reapers pay, demons bedamned. His neck raw, he craved violence.

And now he knew exactly what death meant.

Lucy promised, “I’ll be back tonight with something heartier.” Then she descended the stairs, taking the buckets from the night before with her.

Shane followed her down.

Once Tuck was certain they were gone, he asked, “How far would you guys go to murder these Reaper fucks?”

Roxy replied, “As far as I have to.”

Caweeta and Esa nodded in agreement.

Tuck heaved a sigh. “Carrion visited my dream. He wants free to fight an invader planning to seize this place. Says he didn’t start this war, though he did let those kids die. Whether any of that’s true…” He shrugged as if lifting giant boulders. “He wants us to join him against the Reapers and their master.”

Esa’s eyes narrowed. “That don’t sound like it comes with some serious strings nor nothin’.”

Roxy added, “Okay, maybe not that.”

Caweeta gave them a scowl. “I know very little about demons, but I do know you’re always better off with the demon you know.”

Tuck nodded. “If that’s the case, we’re all in way over our heads. Might as well go with the flow in hopes of coming out the other side in one piece.”


	24. Chapter 24

#  24

Shane zipped Tuck’s wrists together, gagged him, then unlocked his shackle. After days of softening up, he trembled, though whether from weakness, exhaustion, or rage, he didn’t know.

Hours ago, the others had been taken into the kind of afternoon thunderstorm that didn’t cool the air but merely raised the humidity. Both his water bottles empty, he’d stared in longing at the half-finished one in Esa’s cell the entire time he awaited his fate.

Once outside, he managed one deep breath of fresh air before he was thrown into the trunk of a dark sedan. With the jack and spare tire jammed into his back, he could feel how enormous the abscesses on his shoulders had grown. Something slithered under his skin, leaving him nauseated by the thought of what might have moved in.

_That probably won’t matter for long._

The jarring shake of a gravel road left Tuck disoriented. Alone, he indulged in a whimper of impotent rage and utter helplessness.

And pain.

The pain had become a familiar friend at least. A comfort. Now it reminded him of Esa and Roxy, and his heart ached for whatever cruelties might have befallen them.

When the trunk opened, Shane yanked Tuck to the ground, hauled him to his feet, then guided him toward a half circle of robed figures three rows deep, maybe fifty people.

Overhead the buzzards circled, but they seemed disturbed as they cawed among themselves. They swooped but never dropped below the treetops. He figured, whatever was about to happen, those birds would enjoy it greatly.

At the hub of the circle, Lil’ Wes sat propped against the altar, much smaller than he’d ever been, nothing but a torso and head remaining. “Ah, the guest of honor.”

_Me?_

Behind the master of ceremonies, Isbet, Miguel, and Kwan, as well as an unfamiliar man, hung strapped to crosses, struggling against their weight for each breath. Around them the haze of kerosene, by the smell, wavered in the orange light of the sunset. In front of Wes sat a tarp. To either side of it, Caweeta and Esa knelt with their arms pulled tortuously taut between metal stakes.

At Esa’s side Lucy Harris held a cattle prod on Roxy, still using her to control the rest. Tuck prayed to whatever powers might exist that the Reapers would underestimate her.

Guiding him by the wrists behind his back, Shane led Tuck to the tarp. A swift kick buckled his knees, forcing him to kneel between Caweeta and Esa. Two robed figures came forward, threaded rope through fresh zip-ties, and stretched his arms toward the tie downs until Tuck thought he’d snap.

Wes announced, “This heretic has seen fit to slaughter Our Lord’s Blade of Justice. Our Savior himself, Carson Nix, has agreed to perform Our Lord’s Rite of the Prophecy and earth-bind the demon that threatens our homes, our families, and our way of life.”

Frank Harris once mentioned Carson Nix to Tuck, but some other memory taunted Tuck, a thought just outside his grasp. Tuck felt certain he should know the man.

A bone-snapping thud elicited a breathless, miserable groan from Esa.

_He’s not gagged? What kind of unfair shit is this?_

“Well, pissant, you made it to the party.” The speaker, whom Tuck presumed to be Nix, hissed low to keep the robed crowd from hearing. “Color me surprised. I reckoned you’d blow your head off years ago. How’s Barb the cum dumpster? She getting a little better mileage these days, or she whoring to make ends meet? No, wait, that’s you. Now I remember, she married good ol’ Bawb. What a worthless piece of shit.”

Gag or no, Esa said nothing, wary eyes fixed on the man.

“Hope your master here has enjoyed my handiwork.” He spat on Tuck.

_Master? Wait, does he mean me?_

“Gotta admit, feeding you that cowl-born human so you didn’t dismantle him limb from limb? That was a stroke of genius.”

Brain working overtime, Tuck realized the only human Nix could possibly mean would be Roxy. _So what the hell does cowl-born mean?_

“Once this binding is complete, I’m gonna rip open one of the gashes you tore in her and pop the cherry on her new bloody cunt.” He reached out to pat Esa’s head. “Don’t worry; I’ll let you watch before you die. I’ve waited a long time to be free to kill you.”

Legs strode past. Tuck strained upward but saw nothing above the waist.

Nix stomped Caweeta’s far shoulder, unleashing a sickening snap. “And you’ve been a pain in my ass for far too long. Every time I find you, poof, dead again. Well, sugartits, you won’t be coming back this time. And I promise this will be the slowest, most painful death you’ve ever known.” He stomped her other shoulder for good measure.

Tuck’s nose exploded, pouring blood onto the tarp. The violence of that kick would have sent him into shock just a week ago. Now it pissed him off.

Loud, Nix called out, “See that, Carrion? Not a fucking drop. And there’s nothing you can do.”

A second meeting with the newcomer’s bootlaces snapped Tuck’s head to the side and shot a wrenching pain down his spine.

“Too bad you had to go and murder my boy Colt.”

 _Colt’s daddy?_ That thought sent a jolt of pure horror through Tuck.

“I had plans for the little pukeball. I guess you can take his place once this is done.” He leaned in close enough to ensure Tuck couldn’t escape the rotten sausage on his breath. “For all the days remainin’ in your short, miserable life, your ass is mine. And I’m gonna make certain those are the longest day’s anyone has ever imagined.”

Tuck could do nothing but stare at the pool of blood growing in front of him.

Louder, Nix said, “Stake the Whore of Carrion outside the circle. Our Lord will decide her fate once the demon is bound.”

Obedient, Lucy and Shane whisked Roxy away.

Wes called out, “Let us pray.”

A chant rose from the circle surrounding them, then turned to another eerie hymn of death:

 

_Shall I, amidst a ghastly band_

_Dragged to the judgment-seat,_

_Far on the left with horror stand_

_My fearful doom to meet?_

_While they enjoy his heavenly love_

_Must I in torments dwell?_

_And howl while they sing hymns above_

_And blow the flames of hell?_

 

By Tuck’s side, Esa’s head lolled to the ground. Seeing the monster by his side lay broken, rage boiled in his veins. He’d be damned pleased to present that cocksucker to Esa. _The perfect wedding gift._ Tuck snorted as his fantasy grew ever more violent.

Carson Nix needed to die.

Overcoming the pain with stubborn will, Tuck rose enough to see Nix place Lil’ Wes on the altar, his head hanging free. Then Tuck slipped outside himself, surprised by the ease of leaving his body.

Nix was definitely not human, some kind of pig—

No, not a pig, a javelina: grizzled navy-blue hair, jowls soft around the face, small bejeweled tusks. Deceptively less brutal in appearance than an actual hog, pigs might devour an injured human, but javelina kill. Those vicious little brutes weren’t pigs, not at all; they were peccary.

_Pecari the Ornate._

At Tuck’s side, Esa’s river cat twitched its long, barbed tail. To the other side, Caweeta’s grand antlers lay on the ground, snapped from her head by shots Tuck had presumed intended for her shoulders.

Curious he turned that vision on himself. More black feathers swayed along his body, but nothing else had changed.

Hacksaw in hand, because it couldn’t have been something quick like an axe or even a chainsaw, Pecari began.

Tuck wanted to look away, told himself he didn’t need to see this, but even the churning in his stomach couldn’t draw his attention from the methodical rip of the saw. As tissue and bone gave way, Wes didn’t even shudder.

All the while, the robed figures sang.

When the last skin holding Wes’ head gave way to the blade, Shane shoved his discarded body to the ground, replacing it with the leather-leafed grimoire. Pecari held steady, allowing the head to wail out gibberish from each page before Shane flipped to the next.

On the fourth page, a shot rang out. Then another. With the third a chunk exploded from Nix’s arm. Wes’ head dropped to the ground and fell silent.

“You got him! You got him!” _Kim?_ “Take that, motherfucker!”

Pecari pointed into the distance with his good arm. “Kill them!”

“RUN!” Panic filled Roxy’s shout.

Tuck couldn’t let those freaks get to Roxy. Not even if he had to rip off his own hands so he could chew Caweeta and Esa free. Back in his body, he heaved against his bonds, feeling sinew snap and joints crack. Skin ripped at his wrists, but his framework held rigid no matter how hard he shoved with his legs. Even slicked with blood he couldn’t work a hand free.

Another heave and the abscesses on his back popped. Pus oozed down his sides under his filthy shirt.

_That’s gonna be great for the infection._

Solid masses jutted from the wounds but refused to fall free, even with a shake. Almost like they were attach—

_Holy shit, I can move them?_

Like drawing a circle with an Etch-a-Sketch, Tuck maneuvered them from under his shirt, then into view: black feathers damp with clear viscera.

The shock took Tuck a moment to shake off.

 _Not a drop,_ Nix had said. So what would happen if that drop fell?

His tiny wings gained size by the moment. If he could just dip a feather, just one, he could fling some blood out and see what happened. As he fought to coordinate his new appendages, make them submit to his will, his left shoulder slipped, dislocated easily after an old injury. That allowed him another precious inch and also some rotation. Just a bit more now and he’d be able to reach the blood.

Behind him tires crunched in gravel, roaring to an abrupt stop, accompanied by short bursts of automatic gunfire. Tuck could only hope that was Peter and his men.

Shouts accompanied a few screams.

All hell broke loose around Tuck while he twisted and squirmed. His joints ripped, then tore further.

Still he needed more. If one dislocated shoulder gave him rotation, two should double that. He just had to generate enough pressure through his injured one to ruin the other.

_This is gonna hurt._

_One._

_Two._

_Three!_

He heaved again, his legs straining.

POP!

His primal scream echoed from every direction. For a few precious seconds he hung limp. Unable to coordinate the tangle of limbs he now controlled, he fluttered and jerked. But then, oh then, just a little more twist, and a single flight feather dipped into the red pool.

Except he didn’t know the mechanics of using his wings. Should he flap them as hard as he could, or would he be able to dictate more of a pitching motion? His gut told him the flap would be a wasted effort while the pitch would fail entirely.

Then he’d try the pitch again. He sure as shit had plenty of blood.

Hoping his wings would react like his arms he practiced the move in slow motion first. After adjusting the arc, he tried again. With his third effort, his wing expanded like a pitcher’s arm. This had to work.

He dipped the feather. Eyes closed, he breathed deeply: in, out, pause, and again. His mind centered, he pulled back his wing, then burst forward. When he opened his eyes, small globules hovered over the tarp. They then sailed free toward the ground.

Afraid to breathe, Tuck waited.

The first drop landed, it’s kin right behind.

A second passed and nothing.

Disappointment curdled in Tuck’s veins. He’d lost precious time.

He shifted his attention back to his bonds.


	25. Chapter 25

#  25

The ground didn’t just shake: It rippled with violent contractions. It screamed. It spewed. It sparked. It rumbled dark curses and violent truths.

Then it ripped open with a jagged, gaping wound.

Steam poured from the pit. Smoky black forms shot into the sky, one after another. Then Carrion stepped from the spot where Tuck’s blood had fallen. Without pause, the demon joined his companions on the wing.

Moments later the screams began.

Then gunshots replied.

“Not me, you halfwits!” shouted a voice from above. Whether that brought any order to the chaos, Tuck couldn’t tell, but the expression certainly wasn’t what he expected from a demon.

“Isbet!” Peter ran past. He cut her free and eased her to the ground. “Talk to me, _princesa_!” He then thought to cut her gag.

“Papá! Oh, thank God you’re here!” She nodded to the cross. “They planned to burn us alive. Like party torches.” After a sob against his chest, she pleaded, “I’ll live, Papá. Please, help the others.” Then she let her head sink to the ground.

Peter freed the unknown man, Miguel, and Kwan in short order.

When he turned to Tuck, Shane barreled into him, knocking him flat. “Don’t release that monster, or we’ll all die!”

That set Tuck to laughing. _What am I gonna do, bleed on you?_

Beside him, Esa’s sinister chuckle sent twin shivers of dread and desire down Tuck’s spine. “I don’t know what yer problem is, Hightower, but I bet it’s hard to pernounce.”

Shane protested, “He’s evil!”

“And I’m not?”

Shane wailed, not an anticipated reply.

He clawed at the air, dropped to his knees. His scream grew shrill. He thrashed as he collapsed onto his back, feet under his body. He jerked and seized, pounding the unyielding clay with the back of his head.

Then he lay motionless.

“Apparently I’m not evil either.” Caweeta snickered. “Oh, quit whining. You earned this. That body is wrecked. You might as well decide what’s next, because you’re done here.”

Tika’s form fell slack against her bonds. With no animating force, she didn’t inhale. Tuck wondered if her heart still beat.

He wished like hell someone would cut him loose. And maybe get him to a hospital.

A second wave of screams and gunshots rang out behind Tuck.

Tika drew a breath, and Caweeta laughed. “Another one down. But there’s more of those black things. They’re fighting each other mostly.”

A well-dressed man, gray at the temples and wrinkles around gentle eyes, approached. Definite Native American heritage but something else too. Calm and regal, if Tuck didn’t know better he’d have thought the man born for this battle.

With a long, elegant finger, he reached for the zip-ties gagging Tuck. After a moment of fruitless and painful wrenching, his serene face scrunched in annoyance. “Well… This plastic stuff is tougher than I expected.” He turned to where Peter sat beside Miguel, both soothing Isbet. “If I may, sir?”

Hardly breaking his clutch on his daughter, Peter tossed his trusty pruning shears to the newcomer without a word.

With awkward force, he wedged the anvil between Tuck’s cheek and the tie. As Tuck winced, the plastic became slack. He spit it out.

“Pecari escaped,” the man said simply.

“Carrion?” Because, of course this stranger was the demon that Tuck had intentionally freed. He allowed his sarcasm to give way to jaded acceptance. He’d do whatever it took for him and his to survive this.

“None other. Though I’d prefer you to call me Gary or something.” He cut Tuck’s wrist free.

Sagging from his fight against his bonds, Tuck fell face first toward the pool of blood, but Gary shoved an arm under him. He reached awkwardly over Tuck to free his other wrist.

When footsteps approached, Gary issued a screech that echoed through the night.

“It’s me, m’lord.” Kim knelt down and tried to pry Tuck from his grasp.

Gary shrieked at her again.

“Let me help him,” she insisted. “It’s your will, after all.”

Reluctant, Gary turned him over to her, then went to free Caweeta and Esa.

“Hold still,” Kim told Tuck. A blazing inferno radiated from her, scorching through his body to his shoulders. “They’ll have to be forced back into the joint, but this will take the edge off for now.”

Peter’s men rejoined the Cuban, among them the unknown man from the crosses. Kenneth, Frank, and Junior lay panting nearby, surrounded by Penbrook and five other men, two of which were black.

What kind of blackmail would have gotten them to join the Klan? Or maybe they were victimized? Tuck realized none of that mattered; they all had a serious grudge against Nix.

Roxy.

Where the hell could she be? Giggles drew his attention to the tree line, where Roxy sat shoulder to shoulder with Caweeta.

Gary peered that way as well. “You kids better enjoy this victory. Your army is still intact. It won’t stay that way long.”

Tuck did a double take. “Wait, what? Battle won, time to go home, right?”

“Oh, this is just the beginning.”


	26. Chapter 26

#  26

In the burnt husk of the church, Gary shielded his eyes from the moonlight. “I don’t remember this place being so bright and loud. And WHAT is that incessant screaming?”

“Cicadas and frogs, mostly” Tuck replied, working his left arm in its socket. So much for a good shoulder.

Esa hadn’t been gentle, but he’d been quick as he pulled Tuck’s arms until they slipped back into place.

“Will they never stop?”

Tuck presumed the question to be rhetorical, but he couldn’t be certain. “Come winter.”

Gary beckoned with one hand circling overhead. Black forms landed at his side, all vulpine darkness in the moonlight.

While Tuck studied them, Kim found a place at Gary’s right hand. She dropped to her knees and gazed up at him. “Are you pleased with me, m’lord?”

That amused Gary far more than Tuck thought it should. “Oh, little iele, I’m more than pleased with you.” With one knuckle he raised her chin. “And never call me that again. Please, call me Gary. Just Gary.”

Her grin turned sly. “Yes, Gary Just Gary.”

“So, darlin’, am I everything you hoped?”

Nuzzling his hand, she snorted softly. “That’s yet to be seen, Gary Just Gary.”

Roxy’s fingers entwined with Tuck’s and Esa’s to swing their arms up and back. Tuck let her, despite the pain.

“That felt good. No,” she admitted with a gasp, “I shot someone and it felt amazing.”

For just a second Esa’s brow knotted. Tuck wondered whether he was pissed she didn’t shoot Nix dead or pissed she got to shoot Nix while he didn’t. Then Esa beamed down at her. “I’ve been a bad influence.”

“Probably,” she admitted.

Gary said, “Nice work, cowl-born.”

She scrunched her nose before looking to him in expectation.

“It’s a sign of favor? El’s favor? As you are one of his?” Sadness dimmed Gary’s smile as he took her hand between both of his. “When my people fell, I was angry, furious even, but I’ve grown to accept El’s abandoned people as my own. For my own piece of mind.”

Releasing her, he eyed the men and women in the burnt radius of the church with him. Then he fixed Tuck with a crooked, delighted smile, his loss forgotten or at least shoved aside for the moment. “Tidy little army. And I thought all hope lost.”

Tuck had too. Annoyed that he’d freed the demon, he sure as shit wasn’t going to admit his fears to the creature with his suspiciously powerful charisma.

“Care to explain why I have wings, but Caweeta doesn’t have antlers, and Esa doesn’t have whiskers and a tail?”

“I could but I won’t. I’m too tired for that. Just pull them tight against your back. Tighter.”

Tuck squeezed harder. Unfamiliar and atrophied muscles strained to control the wings that now tickled below his cargo shorts. Then nothing, no muscles and no wings at all.

“There. All better.”

“Am I going to sprout a beak?”

Gary patted his back in mock solemnity. “Yes, boy, you’ll be just as fugly as me, I’m afraid. Nothing beautiful, just practical.” He clutched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll answer all your questions, promise, but I need to get acclimated. I haven’t been topside in so long it might as well be forever.”

“I only got one question,” Esa said. “What the hell? That necklace?”

“The Amulet of the Leapers.” With vertical wrinkles deepening across his forehead, he looked sheepish. “When Kim suggested your and Tuck’s affection for Roxy could be my strongest weapon, I resisted.”

Caweeta nodded. “She was absolutely our weakness in the jail.”

That made Gary laugh. “Oh, that wasn’t her weakness. That was yours.” With a shake of his head, he continued, “No, it had been millennia since I’d tapped more than a smidgen of my power. I created a sledgehammer when a tack hammer would have sufficed.”

Confusion and fury boiled in Tuck. “Is that why I’m bonded bone deep to this asshole?”

“You did that yourselves. Of your own free will.” Gary barely suppressed his snicker. “I may have overestimated what it would take to knock back your aversion to Esa. And I maybe failed to realize how much damage Pecari had done to him. And, yes, I miscalculated exactly how El’s curse would taint my effort. But as soon as Peter’s _abuela_ destroyed the amulet, all of that returned to me. All of it.”

“El’s curse?” Roxy asked in concern.

“El.” Gary said the word as if it alone should explain everything. When he got nothing but blank stares, he sighed. “He came in off the astral tides thousands of years ago. Expects everyone to do exactly as he commands. And has the power to back that up. The instant I bucked, he cursed me, tainted my power with evil.”

Tuck glowered. Sarcastic, he asked, “So we’re fighting him next?”

“Never even think that. Never.” Eyes wide and lips drawn, Gary’s terrified warning jerked Tuck to somber attention. “Leave that battle to powerful demons like Lucifer and Paimon. That’s one reason I chose my exile a world away from El’s Salem. We’re very small fish in a very large sea. You see my twelve hosts? Paimon alone has two hundred thousand.”

Caweeta stepped closer. “I only have one question too: what are we?”

Gary flashed her a million-dollar grin. “My dear, you three are demi-demons, though my people would have called you skinwalkers. In specific, you are a boone, a bit of spirit gifted to me from Dyani, the Hart of the Wood. You have served as my eyes and ears after El’s people slaughtered mine. In order for you to be reborn, I took your second skin.” He plucked a heavy doe hide from thin air. “Yours now.”

Hesitant she took it. He mimed draping it over his shoulders. When she did so, the skin sank into her and disappeared.

Then Gary turned sparkling eyes to Esa. “You are a boone from Mishipeshu, the Great River Cat. I knew you water cats were tough, but, you survived, even when Pecari incessantly brought you to the brink of turning your skin, then locked you alone in the dark.

“The same isolation, spread over eons, has destroyed most of my fellow demons and left the rest of us hardened. Possibly a bit mad.”

Next he locked eyes with Tuck. “You are my own spirit.” He raised his brows in amusement. “I’ve never liked myself much, so don’t worry, I won’t hold that against us.”

Gary took both of Roxy’s hands. “And you, my dear, against staggering odds, are human. One of El’s blessed. And this once I’m glad for him.”

Her flattered blush and twittering laugh made Tuck give the old codger a side eye.

With two hands, Gary hefted Kim to his lips. “And my darlin’ here is an iele changeling. One of the virgin fae who drip fire in their wake.”


	27. Chapter 27

#  27

Penbrook didn’t bother to look up as Tuck stomped closer. “Just make it clean.”

The red haze in his vision cleared enough to make Tuck hesitate.

An unexpected force knocked him from his feet. The ground met his back with a thump.

Esa sat perched atop him. “Ya know as well as I do that I’da done the same. Worse, more likely.” Esa leaned in closer, baring his throat in mock vulnerability. “So ya gonna kill me too?”

“Can’t say the thought never crossed my mind.”

Esa pulled Tuck along for the ride until he sat straddling Esa’s hips. “Then do it, big man. Go on. Kill me.” He pressed Tuck’s hands around his throat. “Bullwhip in hand, I’da loved it more than Penbrook ever thought possible.”

Brows knotted, Tuck gazed down, his simmering anger still threatening to boil over. “Fuck me, I wanna feel that asshole snap into a million pieces.”

“So ya ain’t gonna wait on that bitch karma, just gonna beat him to death now?” Impetuous, he pulled Tuck down. Despite Tuck fighting every inch of the way, Esa brought him closer. “I want ya to let that asshole live.”

Fluttering his lashes, Esa bucked his hips. Voice high and feminine, he cooed, “Please, huckleberry? For me?”

Angry and embarrassed and trapped by the truth that he’d surrendered his body to another man, Tuck pulled his face away before their lips could meet. Still the possibly imagined gasps from the onlookers brought a raging fire to his skin. As Tuck’s fear rose hard and fast, he couldn’t bear to face Esa. He’d never been the kind of guy to make waves, and now he knelt over his…

Boyfriend?

The idea felt childish.

Lover?

The word stretched thin in his mind, overpowered entirely by a bond it could never convey.

Husband?

What they shared had nothing to do with law and social contracts. But it certainly was no casual affair. The three of them had made a pact, a sacred vow.

He’d given himself willingly, no reluctance or hesitation, yet now he wanted to deny everything, to hide from the truth. But he could deny Esa nothing. He knew that when he’d knelt by Roxy and confirmed Esa’s right to claim them.

While Tuck’s mind tap-danced, Esa recited, “Bonds forged in the night, not to be denied in the light.”

“It’s dark.”

Lips against Tuck’s cheek, Esa whispered, “How can ya not appreciate poetry, huckleberry?” His index finger lightly traced the raw chaffing around Tuck’s neck. “I ripped Hightower’s limbs from his dead body for this. Nobody harms what’s mine without payin’ the price.”

“So why can’t I take the same from Penbrook?”

“’Cause I’m askin’ ya not to.” Esa pushed Tuck aside and rose to stand towering over him. Then he strutted away as suddenly as he’d arrived.

And justice in mercy, Tuck would keep his hands off the sheriff. Though Tuck didn’t know what Esa might do if he refused, a more compelling thought stilled his hands and quieted his mind: his restraint would please Esa, and that was all that mattered.

When had that happened?

 

 

Pushing hard with his right wing, Tuck managed to avoid the uppermost branch of the pine, but only barely. Halfway between bird and man proved the most powerful of his options, but perhaps he should have gone all bird for this particular mission. By his count, provided he hadn’t missed anyone hidden by the enormous beak between his sharp eyes, forty-two people lay dead in the first light of morning.

If Pecari stayed true to his pattern, that would be at least one person from every influential family in town. Below him, men and women — even Gary — sat or lay on the ash-covered ground, many catching a nap while they could.

Until Pecari was gone, everyone feared bringing calamity home with them. So they banded together. A unanimous decision never expressed in words, only their continued presence. Else they simply feared missing out. No matter, they gained time to bond, a necessity if they wanted to form a functional army willing to kill and die side by side.

Tuck’s first successful flight gave him a moment to think on other things as well. He landed hard, reeling, feet and ankles stinging from the ungainly impact. “If we are demi-demons, are our parents not our parents?”

Gary chuckled as he softly patted Tuck’s shoulder, bruised from an earlier attempt at staying aloft. “Oh, those are your real parents alright. They kept you sheltered enough that I thought you’d never turn your skin. Even in chains you didn’t burst into feathers.”

He turned to watch the women, who formed a tight circle around a large doe, Caweeta. Her broken antlers still put those of most bucks to shame. “She didn’t always kill the souls of her bodies. She melded with them until the crowding of her personality became unbearable. Carrying so many memories has taxed her more than I anticipated.”

“And Esa?”

“What about him?”

“He has a real father somewhere?”

“Has or had, I’m certain.”

Tuck nodded, satisfied by the answer but still disappointed in all of humanity by Esa’s abandonment. If Barbara Morgan knew the answer, she wasn’t telling.

Pecari had spent the better part of two decades softening up Cottonfield—

Before Tuck could finish his thought, Esa barreled from the tree line on four feline legs and pounced. Tuck lay stunned, sprawled on the ground. Esa rested both front paws and his big tiger head on Tuck’s feathered torso. Tongue lolling as Esa panted, leathery gills along his neck gasped open with each expansion of his muscular chest.

When Esa realized Tuck stared, he said, “It’s like hiccups with a purpose.” Whiskers pressed forward, his claws idly slid through Tuck’s feathers.

Ten pinpricks pierced him, two curves of electric anguish running from shoulder to hip, making Tuck yelp. “Shit, care to remove those claws from my hide?” At least his thick layer of feathers protected him from Esa’s scales, which glinted sharply in the slanted morning light.

Claws still extended, Esa gushed, “Caweeta is the fastest thing on feet. No matter what I did, I couldn’t catch her.” The rumble coming from Esa might have been a purr. “But you, huckleberry? Ya ain’t got no chance on the ground. Might wanna bear that in mind.” Behind him, his barbed tail flicked.

 

 

“She’s alive!” Frank Harris’s shout disrupted the grim chore of naming bodies and hacking graves into the dense red clay.

Tuck stood over Jan Meed, the woman who owned all three grocery stores in town, but turned to see Lucy stir weakly in Frank’s arms. The little army had already gone through and put the groaners out of their misery. He hated that they’d missed one. And he hated more that Frank would have to watch the light fade from his wife’s eyes.

Tuck drew his borrowed knife from the sheath in his pocket. This was about to suck. Lucy had been the only Reaper who still seemed human. Even if she had zapped Roxy with a cattle prod, at least she had the decency to feel bad about it.

Hypocrisy at its best _._

The panic in Frank’s wide eyes said the man knew what was up. “Tucker, I don’t want to hurt you, but I absolutely fucking will.” He rose to fight.

“She’s dangerous. They killed eight kids, outside the girl Colt had worked over.”

“And I’ll kill you sure as shit, Tweety.”

Tuck searched the crowd for Kim and signaled for her before asking, “How is she?”

“Shot through. Lost a lot of blood.” Shaking, Frank sunk down to clutch his limp wife to his chest.

When Kim touched Tuck’s arm, he stepped back. “Can you tell…” The dry grass under his feet held Tuck’s attention. “Which is the greater mercy: to live or die?”

“Hard to say.” Kim eased to her knees and inspected the hole that ran through Lucy’s shoulder. “The subclavian artery and vein are intact, else she’d have bled out already. She needs a blood transfusion, which requires a hospital.” With a flicker of green fire, the bleeding stopped. She rose and met Tuck’s expectant gaze. “If she doesn’t die of blood loss and shock, I’d guess the greater mercy is to live.”

Unsure of himself Tuck sought Gary, but he only shook his head and returned to creating graves for the dead. So Tuck made the call. “Screw it. Get moving. Have Kenneth drive. It’s a hunting accident. Wild hog.”

Frank scrambled ungainly to his feet, still cradling his wife.

As the man hurried away, Tuck muttered, “It’s a fuckin’ mistake, but I couldn’t make him watch.”

Kim brought her hand to his cheek. “Your soul’s taken a hell of a beating. I can see you wince every time you use your left shoulder. Go sit. Breathe. Relax. Pecari won’t be back in the next ten minutes. Let the rest of us do the digging for a while.”


	28. Chapter 28

#  28

Following the scent of water, Esa padded deeper into the woods along the well-rutted game trail. “I ain’t the type to get a happy ending.”

“But you’ve come so far.” Roxy clung to his back with her knees, riding him like a slinky mount. Only a borrowed leather jacket protected her thighs from those wicked scales.

Buzzard façade withdrawn and glad of it, Tuck walked beside them when the trail was wide enough. “He’s not a home improvement project.” He kept his left hand on his right shoulder to ease the pain, but it didn’t help much.

Roxy’s kiss-plumped lips drew into a pout. “I know. I just want him to be happy.”

“Screw happy; that’s too much pressure. I have what I want.” His tail slapped Tuck’s thighs, the barbs leaving pinprick stings.

“You need to quit casually jabbing holes in me.” He sounded more annoyed than he felt, but he hoped it would drive the point home.

Esa went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “If ya gotta want somethin’ for me, want love. Not that shallow, sappy shit, neither. Bloody steel and lightnin’ bolts, broken glass and salt in the wounds. The kind that gives ya the strength to live until ya die.” That purr again, it rippled through Tuck’s chest leaving a pleasant longing in its wake. “Or simply give it to me.”

“Oh! You’ve got to stop that!” Roxy’s giggles rose to shrillness. “No, really, stop!”

“Stop? But why?” Esa dropped to his haunches and elbows so he could purr louder. His tail slapped idly on the pine needle-covered path.

The thrum resonated in Tuck’s breastbone, shoving aside his minor annoyance with Esa in favor of sheer fascination.

Instead of sliding off his back, Roxy leaned forward. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she stage-whispered, “I suspect your penis is barbed.”

“Seriously?” Both brows raised, his purr cut off. He lifted one hind leg and glanced back. “We gotta try that out right this second.”

“Uh, no—”

“No? I can smell desire rising off ya, tantalizing. I can feel yer legs quiver, yer heart race. Yer sheer pleasure, wrapped in flesh and sparked to life. And yer saying no?” Ears back, Esa huffed.

“A quarter ton of sharp and pointy that you can barely control? I’ll pass.” A drop of blood trickled toward her elbow as she leaned back, cut on his gills no doubt. “Besides, my hands are killing me. The incessant digging has left me cranky. And the lack of sleep is making me ditzy.”

Fair enough complaints, as Tuck’s palms were blistered and cracked as well. Both shoulders throbbed with his heartbeat. He’d be sore as hell come morning. Provided he didn’t fall asleep in the water and drown.

“This indignity will come at a price,” Esa threatened, his tone sulky and childish.

Roxy only laughed. Either she didn’t appreciate how cruel Esa could be, or their lack of sleep was really doing a number on her.

Lifting his leg higher, Esa peered at his undercarriage. “What the hell is this? This thing comes stock with a kink almost at my navel.” Once he’d worked out how, he did check out his equipment. “I be damned, looks like a fucking cactus.”

Then his foot caught his eye. He spread his toes, the webbing between them red in the sunlight. “Okay, ya might got a point, sweetness.” He rose in a languid stretch. “Still the day will come when ya gotta face the rest of me. Knowing all about me and experiencing everything I want to do to ya are two differ’nt horse races entirely.”

“Let me sleep first.” Her nails ticked down his back in long, playful sweeps. “Then I’ll meet your demon.”

“Oh, my savage hunger will happily wait for yer mind to surrender. Ya’ll never know a greater calm than the hours I’ll spend ruining every pristine inch of ya.” Satisfied, Esa continued carrying Roxy downhill in search of the long-abandoned rock quarry Tuck had spotted from overhead. “So what about you, huckleberry? What’re ya packin’?”

“Nothing.”

“What ya mean, nothin’?”

“I mean nothing, smooth as a Ken doll.”

Roxy’s musical laugh floated between them. “Most birds have a cloaca. For everything. They reproduce by kissing buttholes together.”

Tuck scrunched his face in distaste. “Ugh, I didn’t need to know that.”

“At least you aren’t a wereduck.” Roxy snickered even more at that thought. “They may have penises, but they’re like corkscrewed grappling hooks.”

A sudden concern crossed Tuck’s mind. “Hey, if he smells like life, does that mean I smell like death?”

“Yeah, a little,” Roxy admitted.

Esa rushed to clarify, “But not like rot. Like carnations and tears and the bottom of an old lady’s purse.”

“And death,” Roxy repeated. “Not some bitter loss but the last smile of a life well lived.”

“What the hell?” Tuck asked. “How is that a scent?”

Roxy shrugged. “Scent and memory are closely linked in the mind.”

Caweeta rocketed past, darting into the woods ahead. She’d said she’d catch up with them.

Though tempted to take wing and give chase, Tuck needed to think. They’d meet her at the quarry in their own time. Surely after three centuries she had sense enough not to leap into the chilly water alone. Cold shock could drown even an excellent swimmer, particularly during the hottest part of summer. Submerged equipment and wires always posed a danger in those flooded pits as well.

At least a carved road curved down the steep walls to the water. Junior Ross’s great uncle, some relation to Mayor Hardwick’s stepbrother, had jumped into a quarry with no way out. Hardwick’s step-relations maintained he swam until he gave out, but Junior’s grandmother suggested he dove in too drunk to tread water. The two families could never be invited to the same social function without someone getting punched.

Of course, during Prohibition, the only alcohol was white lightning smuggled down from the mountains, so the man could just as easily have been poisoned.

Picturing all three at once, Tuck chuckled at the stupidity of the man’s demise. Death had become a such flippant matter. Esa had been right about the weight of holding the line between life and death, but Tuck quickly grew jaded, finding the humor in death to keep the horror at bay.

He’d decided to uniformly give the thumbs down, save that one unwise exception for Frank and Lucy. Now he had to question the morality of that stance. Tuck had friends in Pecari’s town, Templeton. He and Colt had practically lived there the entire summer after they graduated from high school. They claimed a campsite along the granite shoals as their own for those long, lazy months.

Now Colt was gone by his hand. Along with Dee and the others.

Tuck could feel guilty about not feeling guilty later. For right now he needed some plan for Templeton. They’d be outnumbered in a whole town of cultists, so they needed to find Pecari before he could regroup. From the accounts he’d heard throughout the day, Pecari and Carrion sounded well matched. Maybe Tuck, Caweeta, and Esa could tip the scales and finish off that monster.

In truth Tuck mainly wanted an end to this fight. He had a life to get back to, even if that now entailed joint custody of one very large, very sadis—

The ground underfoot rumbled. At his back the world shifted. He stared in that direction but saw only shivering leaves. No screams echoed through the forest. Even the birds continued their midday songs as if this were a perfectly normal occurrence.

Esa glared over his shoulder. “No way am I turning back now. I’ve always been jealous of you dipshits swimming, and I’m doing this, dammit.”

Tuck couldn’t remember how he’d learned to swim, but he remembered teaching Colt what Esa had never learned. Tuck also couldn’t blame him for wanting to try out his body. Flight had turned out to be similar to the breaststroke, and Tuck would have been screwed if he hadn’t known how.

Besides, whatever was happening, they wouldn’t be able to stop it.

Tuck nodded and fell into step beside Esa, even with the land trembling.

They had to be close to the quarry now. The rest of their little army currently cooled in the shallow, swirling pools of the stream closest to where the church had stood. But Esa wanted deep water to try out his gills, so they walked onward in the oppressive, damp heat. While the dipping sun slanted through the leaves, sweat cleared rivulets in the red dirt that clung to them.

Though expected, the steep cliff only ten feet ahead took them by surprise. Below, blue-green water rippled from the quakes. From each low crest sunlight glinted in harsh, blinding reflections.

At the waterline, Caweeta lay on the sandy path leading into the pit. Naked, her dark-bronze skin drank the light that fell on her while her sweat reflected it in shimmers. With a start, Tuck realized he’d never seen a black woman in the nude before.

“Slow pokes,” she called out. “Get your butts down here. I want catman to check out the water, so I know if it’s gonna melt my face off.”

“Valid concern,” Tuck said as they started down to the water. “The color is probably copper leached from the limestone, but this water could be polluted with pretty much anything. All the equipment is still on the bottom.”

Esa continued slinking forward undeterred. “I’m willing to risk it.” Minutes later he paused only long enough for Roxy to dismount before launching into the awaiting pool. “Christ, you said it’d be cold, but I thought you were shitting me.” His lips pulled from his enormous teeth in a grimace, the expression fierce.

Dogpaddling with ease, he tested his new form before diving. An echo of the water itself, Esa moved with a languid grace Tuck envied. The cat blended so perfectly with the water he doubted a camera could capture Esa at all.

Tuck stripped before dipping a toe. The surface temp was a pleasant mid-eighties, but it dropped rapidly as he waded deeper. By the time he became buoyant, his arms sprouted goosebumps.

The women followed, giggling about mermaids.

When Esa’s canines clamped like a bear trap around his calf, Tuck realized he’d made a miscalculation. He sucked down as much air as his lungs would hold before his head submerged. Eyes open without stinging, he determined the water to be potable, more likely than not, a mild relief despite the thought of drowning as Esa’s bath toy.

_Hell, kitty want a fight, kitty get a fight._

Knowing he’d never taken a hit there, Tuck punched Esa square in the gills. Despite the freshness of the nerves, he shook off the blow and surged deeper. They spiraled around the upright arm of a submerged crane. They’d entered the danger zone, where anything could be waiting to trap them both.

Air…

Two more punches drove the point home, but Tuck’s lungs were already screaming as he shivered, the water much colder as they dropped.

Air.

Unable to hold his breath any longer, bubbles dribbled from his nose as his lungs emptied against his will.

Air!

Panic growing, he fought the urge to take a breath.

AIR!

Mind buzzing, his lungs pulled against his closed throat, trying to force a breath.

AIR!!!

Able resist the urge no longer—

Tuck’s head broke the surface. Relief alive in his every cell, he gasped. “Assho—!” He sucked in just enough water to trigger a coughing fit.

Once he calmed, he crooked a finger at Esa, beckoning him closer for a private chat. In a harsh whisper, he said, “You want to hunt me down and kill me? ’Cause that’s how you earn the privilege. Dammit, Esa, drowning me crosses all of my boundaries.”

With an oafish grin, he dismissed Tuck’s concern, “Yer fine—”

“No. Fuck no. That’s not your call to make.”

The earthquake slowed. They both glanced upward but saw nothing amiss even as the rumble stopped entirely. Nothing in nature seemed at all concerned, so Tuck turned his attention back to his main worry: Esa’s impulse control issues.

The big cat rolled to his back, exposing his not-so-soft underbelly. “C’mon, I was just horsin’ around.”

“My point exactly. Half the time you’re reckless. Dangerous. Someone’s going to get hurt, and I’m pretty damned sure it’s going to be me.”

Defensive, he circled like a shark. “No, fuck you. Ya never got mad when Colt pulled ya under.” Oh, not defensive but jealous.

“Colt never took me scuba diving without a tank.”

A shiver of fear crept up Tuck’s back with the certainty that Esa would keep dodging his point until their tempers flared, a fight he’d absolutely lose against the man, much less the cat.

Tuck tried a different tact. “Listen: If you want to keep me, you’ll have to respect me. And that includes not scaring the piss outta me, not poking holes in me, and not being a dick overall. Can you do that?”

Finally serious, Esa replied, “Huckleberry, I don’t know.”

“Then try. You’re the one who set the stakes so damned high.”

“When somethin’ sounds like fun, I do it.”

“I’ve noticed.” Tuck forced the furrow in his brow to relax. “In the bedroom, you’re a fuckin’ maestro, master of all you survey. Bring some of that control freak out here into the real world.” He paddled closer. With tender affection, he rubbed the scales of Esa’s massive head. “I’m willing to bend, but I have to be able to trust you.”

After a sigh of sheer frustration, he changed the subject. “And you should give swimming a try. By now you have a feel for the water.”

To Tuck’s relief, Esa accepted the matter as closed, though they both knew they’d revisit this argument again soon. “Fine, I’ll trust _you_ not to let _me_ drown.” He pulled his striped skin back into his body.

Mirroring Tuck Esa kicked and swept his arms in circles. He managed to keep his head above water.

Taking the lead for the first time, Tuck wrapped Esa’s legs around his waist. “See, easy peasy. Just like falling off a bike.”

Learning to trust his desire, as it had cost him nothing but his own biases, Tuck cupped his hand at Esa’s nape and pulled him nearer. Their lips met, striking sparks in his groin. Trembling, shaking like a boy in fact, he delved deeper.

Reverence passed between them.

As the spark grew to a steady flame, an aching desire seized Tuck. It vined from his balls to squeeze his heart. That ache grew needy, hungry, starved…

Ravenous.

His fire became an inferno. It scorched through his soul, consuming his fear and insecurity, his definition of himself and of real men. That flame brought him to the tipping point.

No more hiding, no more denial. From this moment on, he resolved to stand tough at Esa’s side and dare anyone to say jackshit about it.

Tuck pulled back long enough to say, “And I do love you. No matter how hard I fight it.”

“Kisses like that make men’s hearts bleed.”

“Was that a whimper?” Tuck asked, pleased with himself.

Esa pressed his forehead to Tuck’s. “That was me not cuttin’ teeth marks into yer hide.”


	29. Chapter 29

#  29

Wrestling his wet body into sweat-dampened clothes proved a challenge, but Tuck finally fought the khaki-green tee shirt over his head with his arms in the right holes. Then he realized it was inside out. He didn’t give a damn.

Overhead, fluffy clouds rose taller, growing grayer as they thickened. The rain would start soon, but first they’d be treated to a spectacular sunset. Hopefully.

Impatiently pawing the ground, Caweeta now waited only for Roxy to finish her struggle. Esa on the other hand, merely shook off the water, prepared to hike back to the ashes of the church stark naked.

Muscles tired and mind spent, Tuck expected to trudge back up the game trail in exhaustion. Instead the heat of the day and the chill of the swim had eased his swelling and pain. He grinned as he walked, happy to take any bonus the universe sent his way. Honestly, the freedom to walk more than the length of a chain left him exhilarated.

Nearly back to the church, they rounded a bend. Tuck peered in confusion at the towering stone wall that came into view through the trees. He glanced to Esa, then Caweeta.

Roxy kept walking, turning left at the wall with confidence. Then she realized no one followed. “C’mon, guys, gate’s this way.”

Tuck frowned. “How the hell would you know that?”

“Well, it hasn’t moved since we left, now has it?”

That was a head scratcher. “This wall wasn’t here when we left.”

“What?” Roxy gaped at them. “Of course it was. Walls don’t drop out of thin air.”

Esa shook his head. “Sorry, sweetness, but, no, it wasn’t.” He studied the wall, then walked up to feel it.

“We headed out from the burned church, remember?” Tuck also drew close.

His left hand again slung onto his less injured shoulder, he reached only with his right to touch the massive stones that blocked their way.

Confused, Roxy’s brows knitted tight. “No, Gary’s place has the wall…” She looked from one scowl to the next. “What?”

Even Caweeta had resumed her human form to run her hands over the granite. “Gary’s place? Gary doesn’t have a place.”

Tuck asked, “Okay, you remember we were tied in the ashes of the church for Pecari?”

“Well, yes, of course.”

“After the fight, we buried everyone, right?”

Roxy nodded.

“Then people started heading for the creek to cool off, but Esa wanted to swim, so I found the quarry?”

She continued nodding as he spoke.

“So we walked out there, swam for an hour or two? So now we’re walking right back to the burned church,” Tuck concluded.

“No, we’re headed to Gary’s pl—” She glared at the wall. “Oh! What the hell?”

Caweeta shrugged. “At least we know what all that shaking was about.”

Curious now, they walked a bit faster. The massive wrought-iron gate opened on a majestic estate that surrounded a sprawling Romanesque revival mansion with bands of tall, arched windows on each of the three stories. Terracotta shingles topped everything, adding visual warmth where the granite structure reached thin spires into the sky. The carriage house, large enough to stable an entire Calvary regiment, echoed the narrow arches, columns, and towers of the main house.

Under the porch leading into the grand home, Caweeta’s gaze wandered from one pillar to the next. “I know this place. Sorta. I went to an art exhibit in a house like this once, the gallery had…” After glancing around, she pointed to the far end of the right wing. “Yes, a glass roof just like that, but it was on the other side.” She approached the main doors. “And just inside the foyer…” The massive door swung easily at her touch. “A humongous pipe organ.”

The brass pipes gleamed, welcoming them inside as if their existence were the most natural thing in the world.

“Oh, good, you’re back.” Gary hurried their way with Kim in his wake. “You’re on the third floor with us.” His good-natured laugh made Tuck grin in spite of himself.

Kim again dropped to her knees at his side.

“Little iele, you must stop that.”

“But I like it right here,” she pouted.

“I won’t have the fae think I’ve enslaved one of their lost changelings.”

“But you have. You won my heart.”

“Virgin or no, you’re still powerful. Even without your fire, I know your worth, and you won’t disrespect yourself under my care. Please, stand at my side.”

“You’re no fun.” She wrinkled her nose, unmoving. “But you’ll be fun later?”

“Yes. Much fun. For now, pretend to be tame.”

She rose to her feet, clearly disappointed. “Yes, Gary Just Gary.”

Patient rather than flustered, he chose to ignore her tease, instead pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “I’ll set your world aflame again.”

Tuck studied the expansive, airy room around them: eggshell-white plaster framed by ornately-carved dark wood with elaborate wainscot and warm metallic details. “And I thought we’d be lucky if anyone had an extra tarp to keep the rain off.”

Caweeta added, “I kinda expected the rough beginnings of a primitive sweat lodge at best.” She shook her head at their overwrought surroundings. “The A. Jonathan Hall House, an on-loan showing of moderately well-known Classical Greek originals in June of 1857?”

“I like the aesthetic.” Gary clasped a hand on her shoulder, eyes kind. “I know your memories weigh on you. Thank you for carrying that burden. I asked too much of you and didn’t understand until after your creation.”

Uncomfortable Caweeta shrugged off his concern. “I thought I’d seen and done it all. I never imagined…”

“That I was spying?” Gary motioned for them to follow him up the staircase leading to the left wing.

“Yeah.” A warm pink spread across her dusky nakedness. “So, everything, all of it?” She shivered as if someone had walked across her grave.

“If I was paying attention at the time.” Gary nodded in slow concession. “Every sensation, every conversation, every lover. Like my own.”

When they reached the first landing, Roxy asked, “So what happens to you when this is all over?”

“I’ll hit the astral tides, find a new home. Unless it goes to shit. Then I’ll surrender to the void. I can’t take another second of exile. That bastard El called my exile a mercy. Stripped down to my heartstone, trapped in isolation, with the void singing her siren’s song? I don’t know what might be worse, but I plan to move along before El comes to elucidate merciless for me.

“Whyever he came here, it left him bitter. Meaner than a two-headed bobcat with rotten teeth. After his demi told all his people that his old law had passed away, El raged. Saw to it that his demi suffered an agonizing death. Ever since, El’s been listless, ignoring his tainted humans, letting them choose their own fates.

“Maybe one day he’ll decide the rest of us deserve free will too.” His derisive snort indicated his doubts on that.

At the top of the stairs, he nodded to a door straight ahead. “My and Kim’s rooms.” He pointed back, past the stairwell. “Your suite. My hosts grabbed some stuff from your homes. Did a little shopping. Even filled the kitchenette with snacks. Make yourselves at home.”


	30. Chapter 30

#  30

Leading into their rooms, a flowing brass inscription ran across the lintel. Written in the same hand as the message on the altar, it read:

 

**Do What Others Only Dream.**

 

“Each choice leaves a trail of lost possibilities but opens a host of new ones,” Gary said, “so allow imagination and hope to guide your will.” He swung the door open.

The pale walls and dark wood of the rest of the house gave way inside. A charming continental-style common area greeted them in the red-orange of dying embers. The simple, worn, mismatched wooden table and chairs sat askew, just so, beckoning for them to come enjoy a meal or play a round of cards.

Over the doors on the left side of the room, a shelf held dozens of empty wine bottles and oil tins. Inside the fireplace, surrounded by a mantle painted a bottomless green-black, sat a large brass globe.

Caweeta let out a squeal so high Tuck winced. “It’s that little café in Brussels! Where I met Maria. That was the best week of all my lives.” Arms around Gary’s neck, she gave him a peck on the cheek. “I always thought it a horrible crime that the place got bombed.” Then her face fell. “Do you know if she survived?”

“I only know you didn’t,” Gary replied.

“Sometimes at night I still imagine her and my kid having dinner with another man, content with their lives.”

“I know that too.” He held her, patting her natural curls until she pulled away to pat her eyes dry. Then he addressed the group, “I thought you might appreciate separate rooms. Ladies to the left, human first.” He nodded to the nearest door.

Curiosity evident in her haste and anxiety in her hesitation, Roxy stood for a moment with her hand on the black iron doorknob.

The door opened to reveal a room so dark, Tuck’s eyes had to adjust. Every detail in the room held opulent depth, golden braid, and rich gem tones: a thick ruby rug, dazzling emerald and aquamarine tapestries, and a velvet duvet in shimmery indigo-sapphire. Walls and floor in charcoal-gray marble surrounded a heavy canopy bed with deep violet curtains tied back to the posts.

This room couldn’t have been designed for airy Roxy.

Faint pink surfaced at her ears to prove Tuck’s point. “It’s that room.”

“Minus the guillotine and bondage gear.”

“Thanks for that.” She gaped a moment longer. “I don’t generally admit how much I love tribal goth.” In a hoarse whisper she added, “It’s perfect.”

“Glad to hear it. After such a large summoning, I’m not in the mood for major alterations.”

Roxy had hidden another integral part of herself from him? The thought stung Tuck, a slap in the raw spot she had occupied not so long ago. A spot she was quickly retaking.

“But you don’t dance,” he protested.

“I do. I’m just not very good.”

That drew a chuckle from Esa. “Practice is the only cure for that, sweetness.”

Gary glanced to Caweeta. “So what’s behind door number two?”

“You’re grinning like it’ll be better than the café.” Caweeta led the way and opened her door. “Holy hell, Gary. It’s like walking into a painting by Gustav Klimt.”

Spiraling across the back wall, an electric citrus tree swirled among golden reflective blocks in various sheens and sizes. On one branch sat a regal peacock surveying the room. The black lacquered furniture had peacock-green panels with golden hardware.

Underfoot the olive-stained wood floor gleamed. A dark-teal rug ran beside the bed. The brass headboard swirled as if part of the Tree of Life behind it. Stitched in red circles, the quilt at the foot of the bed shimmered in gold and brass arranged in rough stripes.

Gary squeezed her hand. “My thanks for all you’ve endured.”

Tuck’s room, so much like his at his parents’ home, left him disappointed. Then he noticed the finer details. Instead of fake laminated paneling, the walls appeared to be real wood. Gary tapped the wall and a workstation popped out. The waxy black countertop with a small sink held all the glassware he could ever desire as well as a mounted torch to bend or blow more.

By it, flush to the wall, glass doors revealed shelf upon shelf of bottles and jars, all the chemicals of well-stocked lab. To the other side, a pair of flush wooden doors whispered that the rest of his dream equipment would be housed inside. He noted that the bed would fold into the wall, creating a massive amount of floor space for whatever project he might embark upon in the coming days.

Gary winked. “I thought you would like the… It’s not a Pullman bed… Caweeta?”

“Murphy bed.”

“Yes, Murphy bed. You were always mourning how cramped your room felt.”

Tuck grinned. “This sure as shit beats the meth lab in the Klan’s trailers. I can’t imagine anything better.” He blinked at the glassware. “But it needs a vent hood.”

“See the divot just over top there? The hood simply pulls down. Everything in here disappears into the walls. Just try not to blow us up.” He pointed to a handle jutting from the plain wall. “The dumbwaiter ends in the basement, a room for assembly work next to the armory and the garage.”

Tuck stood dumbfounded, amazed by the comfort of the impact-reducing tiles underfoot. “You really did think of everything.”

“Absolutely. We’ll head to Templeton in three days, and I need your work to move smoothly. Whatever you need to make whatever you can dream up. All without having to leave the suite. Unless you care to take a meal with the rest of us. Which I hope you will.

“The intercom is behind that panel. If you need to coordinate with Junior Ross for electronic components, he’s directly below this room with access to the dumbwaiter. Below him, Marco Chavez has experience using bombs in guerilla warfare. Make wise use of them and anyone else.”

Two spectral black vultures with wisps that hinted of feathers, took roost on the footboard of the bed. “ _Scree?_ ” the nearer host called out.

“Yes,” Gary replied, “I’m just getting to that.” To Tuck he explained, “Sirica and Osceola have volunteered to be your familiars while you work. My hosts can read your mind as well as my own. For any task, they are as capable as you are.”

“Wow.” Roxy chuckled. “We could all use a dozen of these guys.”

Gary’s eyes blew wide with panic. “Everything with a soul comes at a steep price. I’ve all but abandoned the practice.”

“Gary, my dudebro, she’s kidding. Just kidding.” Esa dropped a hefty hand on his shoulder. “Ya ain’t exactly been paying attention to Caweeta lately, have ya?”

“Last few decades I’ve been a bit preoccupied while Pecari moved east.” Gary scowled, the expression hard and impatient. “I got here, chose a prime spot, and settled in for a bit of eternity. If he thinks he can simply march in and take this land from me, he has made a grave mistake.”

Gary paused, his body shifting with his fury as if eager to burst into talons and beak and feathers. Then he grinned at Esa. “It will be a rare joy when you turn his own cruelty against him.”

Esa cocked his head to one side before asking, “Does he, like, go pfft or bleed out or what?”

“If his mortal shell dies, his heartstone will burrow underground. Make sure he doesn’t die. I will be strong enough to contain him, so he won’t be able to flee to the tides. Then I plan to enjoy every spurting wound and snapped bone until he surrenders to the void.”

For the first time, Tuck understood what made Gary a demon. His anger had weight that hung heavy in the air. Hints of his thoughts slipped across Tuck’s consciousness, each bloodier and more primal than the last.

As if he sensed Gary’s overflowing rage, Esa wore a ruthless grin. “It’ll be my absolute pleasure.” He licked his lips in anticipation.

Tuck asked, “Can we destroy the heartstone? Break it, make him into rings too?”

“Could we? I suppose we if we get it hot enough and cooled it fast enough, it would shatter. Should we? Absolutely not. El forbids extinctions.” Gary shook his head. “I can’t imagine how Pecari has kept from being cursed, but it puts him at a small advantage.”

“Don’t matter.” Esa’s sardonic grin made Tuck’s skin crawl. “I owe him too much to let him slip through my sharp little claws.”

Startling everyone, Kim spoke up. “If you don’t get too happy, I can keep him alive as long as I’m touching him. If I were still intact, you could just go nuts, but…” She harrumphed. “There was so much fire. Virgin fae my ass. Why didn’t the iele come back for me?”

Gary shook his head slowly, sadly. “I wish I knew.”

Roxy’s face sagged with exhaustion. “Last room?”

“Yes!” Gary rubbed his hands together. “I think you’ll all appreciate this. Esa?”

When Esa opened his door, he fell to a fit of giggles.

“The only place you’ve ever been truly happy,” Gary replied.

“That bed could host an orgy.” Esa plunged into his room and dropped heavily atop the duvet.

The sunset lit the blizzard-white room with fire. Not an exact replica of his room at Isbet’s, the bed was double the size of a king. White seamless flooring replaced the wall-to-wall carpeting, only a few strips left as rugs. A pair of French doors opened on an elevated patio with an amazing view over the treetops. Esa’s laptop sat exactly where he’d left it. Even his black bag sat in a corner.

“I really could get used to this.” Esa lay back and closed his eyes.

Ready to surrender to sleep and mostly beyond caring, Tuck crawled in beside him and stripped from under the bedding. By the time Roxy and Caweeta settled in on Esa’s far side, Tuck floated on the leading edge of a dream.

Esa sat up abruptly. “Wait, one more question b’fore ya go. Why’d ya buzzards try to kill me?”

“They were making sure you still had some fight. Not precisely what I intended. If you were going to die, I told them to make it quick and clean. It was the best I could offer at the time.”

Kim winced. “If your first messages hadn’t confused me so much, I could have gotten to him sooner.”

“Little iele, you did plenty. Let me show you how much I appreciate your efforts…” Gary killed the overhead light before pulling the door shut behind him.


	31. Chapter 31

#  31

After dreams of struggling to learn Roxy’s hidden secrets, Tuck woke to her grinning down at him just inches from his face.

Before she could say good morning, he interrupted with, “What else are you hiding from me?” Immediately he knew that was a mistake.

Her face fell. She got up in a huff and left the room.

“Well shit,” he muttered to himself. “I didn’t mean to piss her off.”

Feeling like a jackass, Tuck got up. With Esa in the shower, he didn’t feel like waiting. Instead he headed to his room to get to work. There an unexpected but welcome sight greeted him: a printed document, excerpts from all the websites he intended to visit before making any decisions. The hosts had been brainstorming all night without him.

“ _Scree?_ ” asked Sirica: Did we miss anything?

“I don’t know yet,” Tuck replied as he flipped through the pages, “but this looks great so far.” He glanced at the creatures, unsure of how to proceed. “Um, thanks, guys. Any suggestions?”

A flurry of screeches answered: “I like the rictus darts on page 42.” “The poison gases are too unpredictable.” “How can we deliver oxalate of lime?” Dozens of other thoughts appeared fully formed in his mind, all of them well focused and factually supported.

After discussions with Junior Ross and Marco Chavez, Tuck narrowed his choices to what would work best for their expertise: plastic explosives and poisoned darts.

Tuck and his borrowed hosts mixed up the first batches of explosives and toxins to send down for assembly. Soon he thought he heard a yip somewhere outside his room. By the time Roxy was full-on crying, he had no doubt Esa was with her.

Though a part of him still wanted to save her, he knew two things: She wouldn’t be grateful, and her anger had left him angry. For once he would trust Esa’s judgment; he and Roxy could smooth everything out later.

Lunch passed unnoticed, and Tuck barely felt fatigued by dinner. He wouldn’t have stopped except Osceola, in a rather human form, sat a gallon jug of water and a plate with roast turkey, stuffing, carrots, and green beans in front of him.

“What, no glass?” he teased.

“ _Scree-cree_ ”: You’d just as soon drink from the jug, and we both know it.

Once he ate they got right back to work.

Completely unaware of anything outside his room, Tuck startled when his phone chimed. Esa sent a video, a group discussion of tactics. The number of people in the room exceeded Tuck’s rough headcount. Once he determined most of the newcomers were women, he understood: everyone had brought their families here so they’d be protected. Whole families were gearing up to fight, some to protect the children and others to join the battle in Templeton.

One of the hosts had scouted Templeton.

Gary reported, “They were all wearing those weird rings. Every single one. I don’t see any other option: take out the whole nest.”

Wipe Templeton off the face of the Earth?

When Peter suggested rigging up flamethrowers, Tuck realized he’d be spending all day tomorrow mixing incendiary fuel. He shoved the dread and remorse from his mind, emotions too costly to entertain until after the fight.

Gary rendered old photos on the wall, though Tuck saw no projector. Instead of the shuttered storefronts Tuck saw, everyone insisted a grand cathedral rose in the middle of town, suspiciously Catholic in the Protestant stronghold. The hulking, buttressed building seemed utterly out of place among the functional brick buildings.

Esa sent another video, footage of Gary’s armory downstairs. Though blades aplenty, it held no firearms beyond what people had brought, maybe thirty total with barely enough cartridges. “The hosts expect to bring in more shotguns and rifles,” Esa explained.

Along one wall sat over a dozen backpack pressure-sprayer tanks, fitted with metal torch nozzles. “I figure yer on top of this flamethrower shit. Not a big fan of gettin’ burned.”

Passing through a door, Esa showed the assembly area. Kwan worked in silence at a table that held color-coded darts for his concoctions.

Esa drawled, “Had a hell of a time getting the reservoir right on those suckers. Musta broke five before figurin’ it out. The meth guys were genius ’bout gettin’ ’em full without killin’ themselves.”

To one side sat an assortment of cloth-sided bags and backpacks. Most already bulged with plastic explosives rigged with timers. “Marco has ’em set for fifteen seconds. Just lift the bottle cap, press the button, and throw.”

Even as the footage played, Tuck’s eyelids drooped. Osceola and Sirica began chiding. They assured him they’d have the components for his gel fuel awaiting him come morning. Then they shuffled him from the room, fully expecting him to sleep.

But Tuck wanted to talk to Roxy first. Less than an hour later, Esa came in alone.

Thinking only of the way she’d wailed that morning, Tuck demanded, “How bad did you hurt her?”

“Oh, that’s rich, huckleberry.” Smirking, Esa joined him in the bed. “I only set her tears free. Then I held her ’til she was done.” With a rough hand on Tuck’s jaw, he made certain Tuck couldn’t evade his accusation. “And she wasn’t done for a long fuckin’ time.”

Tuck let out a long-suffering sigh. “She’s overreacting. I’d just wo—”

Esa’s fingers clenched until Tuck winced. “Are ya on stupid pills? If ya can’t see how Caweeta’s affected her, I ain’t got the time ner the crayons to explain it.”

“Shit, okay. Easy.” Tuck raised a hand in surrender, and Esa released him. “No reason to rough me up.”

His grin mellowed and widened. “As I recall ya considered it damned good reason to rough me up.” His soft chortle assured Tuck that he harbored no hard feelings.

“She makes me crazy. Everything about her. The more I try to protect her, the more daring she becomes, just to prove me wrong. One day that’s gonna backfire.”

With a slow nod, Esa ran a finger down Tuck’s chest. “Yeah? Gonna tell her ya told her so?”

“Rather take my chances doing the cha-cha in an industrial blender. She’s the most accurate shot I’ve ever seen, and she’s not shabby with a blade. I keep trying to remember she has a life to live, but old habits…”

“You’ve been infantizing Annie Oakley?” Esa roared with laughter. “Yer lucky she ain’t kicked yer ass.”

“Shove it, Esa. She’s all of a hundred pounds—”

“She’s a buck an’ a quarter.”

“Never mind that.” Tuck huffed. “She gets reckless.”

After a few more chuckles, the bigger man sobered. “Ya do know that she ain’t got no clue what might be hidin’ in her head?”

“I didn’t think about that. Sorry.”

Lying down Esa said, “Don’t apologize to me; I had a grand ol’ time.” Expressionless he stared at the ceiling. “Lookin’ from the other person’s point a view was the first thing she made me learn.”

Tuck heard the implied question: Why didn’t she teach him that? He shook his head. “Maybe she thought I already knew. Maybe she hadn’t learned herself yet; I mean we broke up four years ago.” Tuck stared upward as well. The featureless ceiling left his mind free to wander. He’d wanted her back every minute, and now they were sabotaging their second chance.

“What’s yer plan?” Esa asked.

“I wanted to talk to her tonight.”

Esa shook his head. “Not happening. And she woke up frisky. Now she’s too pissed to be enticed into anything fun.”

“That didn’t sound pissed.” Tuck rose to his elbow, studying the bigger man’s somber expression.

“Nothing pisses a woman off worse than cryin’ ’cause she’s pissed.” Esa didn’t bother to look his way. “She’s fightin’ herself. Half of her burns for ya, but the other half refuses to trust ya. She’s madder than a wet hen that yer still infantil-, infansiz—Gah, that sweetness and her ten-dollar words.” Then Esa turned to him. “Know what she said?”

Tuck grunted, not certain he wanted to find out.

“Said she was surprised ya hadn’t rode in on yer white horse to save her. From me. After I’d spent the last half hour grinnin’ like a dope and pettin’ her hair ’til she was cried out.”

“I would’ve. I wanted to, but I knew _that_ would piss her off. But I kinda trust you. And she’s not giving me any benefit of a doubt so I’m kinda pissed myself. I just needed a few seconds to shake the dream snakes from my head.”

“Yeah. Figured as much. Still, I hate it when Mommy and Daddy fight.” He raised his hands overhead to stretch before rolling to his side against Tuck. “You two and yer trust issues.”

“Yeah. Sucks.” Tuck pulled the comforter over his shoulders. “This Templeton thing...?”

“Go ahead, let it eat at ya, huckleberry.” He snuggled close, running a light finger across Tuck’s jaw. “Last census says Templeton has 512 souls. Colt’s daddy’s prob’ly got his claws in all of ’em. A full-mile blast radius wouldn’t hurt my feelin’s none.”


	32. Chapter 32

#  32

Tuck barely stirred at the knock on the door. “Anyone home?” Kim called. “Gary wants you four to meet with our breakfast guest in the banquet hall.”

Esa answered, “The women ain’t here. But me and Tuck’ll be down soon as we’re decent.”

“Damn, he was adamant about Roxy.”

“Try her room, maybe Caweeta’s.”

“Thanks.”

Still tired Tuck sat up with great reluctance. “This can’t be good.”

“Sure it can. Anything’s an improvement.” Esa already had his pants in hand. “We’re outnumbered and outgunned. The only thing we have in our favor is you.”

“How you figure?” Tuck dragged himself to the dresser and snagged a fresh tee from Esa’s stash. “I’m nothing special.”

“No, but yer bombs sure as hell are. And those darts are sweet. Can’t wait to send someone to la-la land with one of those suckers. The flamethrowers? Well, if I gotta but man do I hate gettin’ burned.” Fully dressed he glared at Tuck. “Need some help there?”

Tuck had his shoes on the right feet, and as far as he was concerned that qualified as a major victory. “I’m still tired.”

In truth everything that happened since they’d been dragged from Isbet’s home had left him exhausted beyond his ability to function, even after two nights of deep sleep between days of comfortingly normal lab work.

“Can ya make Dexies?” Esa asked.

“Dexedrine? I can’t see why not.” Tuck had the equipment, and the Internet Archive had compounding pharmaceuticals textbooks. He paused in tying his shoes to study Esa’s mischievous expression. “But I can’t see why either.”

“Barbs’ grampa came back from the big war with a nasty addiction to the stuff. Might wanna whip up some morphine too. Stuff to keep people on their feet long after they ought fall over from exhaustion or pain.”

“Shit. I’m getting real tired of your insanity actually making sense.” Tuck cradled his achy head. “I’ll get the hosts on it. That’s some dangerous juju though. We’ll cut everything with cornstarch before pressing the pills, hopefully keep the doses low enough no one’s heart stops.”

They saw no sign of Roxy and Caweeta when they stepped into the big dining room.

“Mr. Tucker, Mr. Morgan. Good to see you again.” Reverend Wesley Ross stood to greet them. After a handshake with Tuck, he offered his hand to Esa. “You look much better.”

Eyes narrow, Esa offered a one-finger salute. “Ya coulda come when we asked ya.”

“Is that what this is about?” Wesley glanced around as if the walls held him trapped. “I’ll tell Gary just like I told you: It’s not my province to cast judgment on evil.” He added with a huff, “And I could have done so at a decent hour, rather than five in the morning.”

“He don’t know.” Esa shook his head, hands raised. “Man, I ain’t gonna tell ’im.”

“Tell me what?” Wesley asked.

Tuck tried in vain to swallow the metal that coated his mouth. “...Our efforts haven’t gone well. The cult has overrun Templeton, and we’re up against more than we can handle.” Once started, the words came fast, crowding out the truth about Lil’ Wes.

The reverend relaxed only a bit, skeptical but accepting. “That is a shame. You know I have prayed on this matter a great deal since we last spoke.”

“Thanks.” Tuck didn’t know what more to say.

“And we hope you’ll pray a great deal more,” Gary announced as he stepped in from the kitchen. He placed a platter of cut fruit near the head of the table. “Please, everyone, sit. The ladies will be along shortly, and Kim has made blintzes. Which should be interesting as it’s her first try.”

Tuck took the seat at Gary’s right, across from Wesley. Esa sat beside him, wrapped his fingers into Tuck’s, and raised their joined hands onto the table, daring the reverend to say anything.

Whatever the reverend had done to piss off the big man, Tuck refused to deny Esa again. Instead he accepted Wesley’s scathing disapproval with as much grace as he could muster.

Roxy and Caweeta arrived and dispelled Wesley’s sour expression. He stood to greet them. “Miss Cauldwell, such a pleasure.” After shaking hands with Roxy, he turned to Caweeta. “I’m afraid I haven’t had the honor?”

“Tika Franklyn. Reverend Franklyn’s granddaughter? From Cottonfield Baptist?”

“I see.” He nodded curtly and sat. Racist bastard.

Caweeta didn’t miss a beat, taking the seat at his side and leaning in uncomfortably close. Meanwhile Roxy sat by Esa and took his other hand. At this rate the old man would go apoplectic at any moment.

“Children, behave,” Gary warned. “We are grateful for your presence, Reverend Ross. Your nephew Junior will be down a bit later. He’s been quite helpful in our efforts to quell this evil.”

“As I told these three—”

“I’m quite aware, reverend. But, if I may be so bold, when did you last speak with your son?”

Tuck and Roxy both released Esa’s hands, their focus anywhere but Wesley. Even Caweeta gave him room.

This abrupt increase in consideration did not go unnoticed. Wesley shifted uncomfortably before answering, “Just last night. Why do you ask?”

That answer surprised Tuck, but Gary seemed prepared. “Did he sound a bit off, a bit, say, not like himself?”

All color blanched from Wesley’s face. “What do you mean?”

Gary’s tone went soft, hypnotic. “It’s as bad as you’ve ever imagined.”

“I’ve lost him.” Emotionless, more than numb, Wesley blinked in calm acceptance.

“Pecari claimed him.” The more he spoke that way, the eerier Gary sounded. “Please, we seek your intercession with El.”

“El.” Entranced, Wesley nodded. “I haven’t heard that name since seminary.”

“Reverend Ross, as the only representative of El in Cottonfield, will you assure your lord that I have no intent of staying in his realm? Will you tell him I seek only to stop Pecari’s attack on his people inside my domain?”

Eyes unfocused Wesley slipped into prayer, conveying Gary’s message.

“His blessing means success in our endeavor, though I feel unworthy to ask.”

A little buttering up? Couldn’t hurt.

“If you see fit to ask of your own volition, I have nothing but my gratitude to offer.”

Not only did Wesley ask for El’s blessing in stopping Pecari, he requested holy vengeance for Lil’ Wes’s death.

Calm, far too still for a man grieving, his eyes opened.

Gary continued, “It will be best if you forget this discussion. Tomorrow you should remember that your son had a car crash last week. Remember he told you he loved you before dying in the hospital. Remember everyone grieving with you, so they will remember as well.”

“Yes,” Wesley said, “that is for the best.”

“Now what were you about to tell me?”

Wesley became animated again. “I can’t just go out and cast judgment on evildoers, Mr. Cameron.” His fist landed lightly on the table. “I know you are doing El’s—” he paused in confusion “—erm, God’s work, and I appreciate that, but I’m no warrior monk, just a simple missionary. I only fight to preserve the souls of my flock.”

“I understand, Reverend Ross. Won’t you stay for breakfast? Maybe see Junior?”

“Oh, gladly. To be honest, I feared you’d toss me out by my scruff when you heard my position on the matter. Still, a cult overrunning Templeton?” He stroked his chin absently. “I wish I could do more, but I have no training in the subject, no talents to draw upon.”

“I absolutely understand. And I appreciate your time. Ah, here’s Kim with those blintzes.”


	33. Chapter 33

#  33

After everyone in the mansion finished breakfast, Gary called a meeting in the ballroom. Tuck reluctantly left the hosts pressing dilute stimulants into tablets. He intended for everyone to go into Templeton alert and ready.

When he saw Reverend Ross at Gary’s side offering shallow moral support, Tuck grimaced.

“I’m no butt doctor.” Esa sidled up beside him. “But I know an asshole when I see one.”

Instead of waiting for Esa to make the first move, Tuck took his hand. “But if Gary says he’s key to El’s support, I’ll believe him.”

“Dude’s still standing, ain’t he?”

“Yeah, I hear you. Where’s Roxy and Caweeta?”

“We’re right behind you,” Roxy replied.

Tuck turned and held out his hand for hers. “I am sorry.”

“I’m sorry too. You were asleep, dreaming. I knew that.”

Tuck leaned in and kissed her. “I hate hurting you, but I’d rather spend my life apologizing to you, and hating myself every time, than miss out on everything weird and wonderful in your life.”

She grinned, all white teeth and amused relief. “Me too.”

“Aw, my happy little family.” With a cruel smirk, Esa pulled them into a lung-crushing hug. “I finally have one.”

Caweeta laughed. “I’ve had a dozen or more happy ones. They’re all the same. Boring.”

“I have my doubts this will be boring.” He snickered, releasing his grip so Tuck could breathe. “In fact I think it’s about to get downright exci—”

Standing in front of Gary and Wesley, Peter tapped a metal folder with a pen. “Attention please. We’re going to divide into four teams.” He pointed at the knot of people with Tuck. “Not you four. Come stand by Gary. You’ll be in the decapitation raid.” Then he pointed to himself and the Cubans, who stood in pairs at the front of the room. “My men and I will head the four cleaning crews. Anyone is welcome to join, but there’s no shame in staying back to protect the home front. My Isbet and her Miguel are in charge of defending the children and elderly. They will need plenty of help if anything goes wrong.

“For this operation to run smoothly, we need people comfortable with blood and death. So military, farmers, butchers, and the like, step forward first.”

Tuck led the way toward Gary.

Peter divvied up the small army into four groups of ten to twelve with ruthless efficiency. When he was done he asked, “Anyone feel misplaced?”

When no one spoke up, he continued, “We will be turtling a double pincer attack of annihilation.” He let that thought hang in the air before explaining, “By turtle, I mean move slow and thoughtful. My men will show you how to keep safe. Double pincer means we’ll come in from both ends of both main roads, one team from each of the cardinal directions. That make sense to everyone?

“Annihilation means exactly that. This is a scorched-earth mission. No prisoners. No escapees. No building left standing within Templeton’s border.”

He raised his hand to quiet the murmurs of protest. “These aren’t your neighbors anymore. If you can’t handle that, say so now. Isbet and Miguel will be glad for your help.”

After a few final adjustments, Peter’s lieutenants escorted their scant troops to the corners of the ballroom. Miguel stood dumbfounded in the middle of the remainder, and Peter made a beeline for him.

Isbet, Abeulita, Kim, and several other women came in, each carrying a handbasket.

“ _Para buenos suerte_ ,” Abeulita stated, handing something from her basket to Gary.

“ _Muchas gracias._ ” He dropped the item into his pocket.

Kim held out four bundles of feathers and bones. “For good luck.”

“Thanks.” Tuck accepted one, looked it over, and dropped it in his pocket as well. The others did the same.

The reality of the situation settled on him. Shane Hightower hadn’t been too far off in his assessment that they’d all die if Tuck were freed. Five hundred people in Templeton. _Over ten to one, we have no fucking chance._ The lives Tuck had taken weighed heavy enough already. He wanted to stop this insanity, step off the merry-go-round.

 _This has to happen. We don’t have a choice. Buck up, little Tuckeroo._ He wadded his disgust and horror into a hard ball in the pit of his stomach. Whatever happened tomorrow, he could deal with his emotions if he survived.

“You really shouldn’t touch those,” Wesley commented mildly.

Tuck had forgotten the man was there. He wanted to be grateful for what little help the reverend had offered, but the man’s attitudes about everything left Tuck hard pressed to feel thankful.

Antagonized by the man’s existence, Esa grumbled, “I was gonna give ya a nasty look, but I see ya done got one. Ya done did what ya was gonna do, so take yer holier-than-thou and get packing.”

Gary snatched Esa back by his shirt. “Mind your manners, son. My guests are welcome to stay as long as they want unless I say otherwise.” Though his expression remained mild, his words brooked no backtalk.

“Not my strong suit,” Esa admitted with a shrug. “Why are ya still here?” he asked plainly of the reverend.

“I do feel useless, but I sang about being a warrior for Christ my whole life. With luck this will be my only chance to—”

A man tumbled into Esa and knocked him flat. Favorite Rolling Stones tee ruined by his shift, the weretiger rolled to his feet.

Before Esa could pounce, Peter strutted forward and buried a sharp-toed boot in the downed man’s guts — that Johnson guy who helped in the mechanic’s shop. “Disrespect me again, and I’ll rip your head off.” He knelt down, grabbed a handful of dishwater-blond hair, and backhanded the man’s cheek. “We got that straight?”

Wide-eyed, Johnson nodded as best he could. “Yeah, got it. The Spic’s in charge.”

“Damned straight.” Peter helped Johnson to his feet. “And don’t forget it.”

The corners of Wesley’s mouth pulled down in disapproval.

Aware Esa would take that as a personal affront, Tuck asked Gary, “How ’bout we take this upstairs? It’s loud in here.”

Before Tuck could usher them out of the room, Wesley grabbed Esa’s arm in a white-knuckled grip. “That was a lie,” he confessed. “After breakfast this fight felt so intensely personal, I couldn’t leave. At first I thought it God’s will. But now I’m not so certain. It’s... I can’t quite place it.”

Placated, Esa nodded. “Ya won’t, but I don’t reckon that matters.” Wrapping a big arm around Wesley’s shoulders, he pulled the reverend close enough to plant a harsh kiss on his cheek. “Remember who yer friends are. We ain’t nice; we ain’t kind. We don’t give a fuck if ya don’t like it, but if ya keep lookin’ down yer nose like that, someone’s gonna flatten it.”

Esa removed Wesley’s hand from his arm and sauntered off, following Gary from the room. Shaking his head, Tuck brought up the rear.


	34. Chapter 34

#  34

Upstairs Gary wasted no time. “I can get Esa to the cathedral’s bell tower. Kim can lift Caweeta. Can you lift Roxy thirty feet straight up?”

Tuck realized the man was talking to him. “Roxy? I can, but—” A light jab to the ribs cut him off.

Much to his surprise Esa wasn’t the perpetrator.

Roxy fixed a lethal glare at him. “Shock me; say something that won’t piss me off.”

Only Esa’s snicker answered.

Gary continued unperturbed. “The fireworks begin on the edge of town an hour before dawn. We’ll be waiting on a backroad. Fifteen minutes later, we start at the top of Pecari’s stronghold and work our way down. Clear it one floor at a time. Hopefully there won’t be much resistance left, everyone off to the fight at the border.” He pointed to Roxy. “You best with a rifle?”

“I can shoot whatever you hand me: rifle, pistol, shotgun, revolver. As long as it’s not some fifty-cal blunderbuss, I’m on target.” She added, “I may not be able to make distance on the blow darts, but I wouldn’t mind having one of the flamethrowers on my back.”

Disgusted, Esa asked, “Ever smelt someone burnt alive, sweetness?”

She grimaced. “No. But it doesn’t matter.”

In minutes, they had the weapons divvied up. Gary unfolded a sheet of notebook paper, and they reviewed Peter’s suggested tactics until lunch. Then Gary and Kim left them free for the rest of the day.

The other four sat stunned.

“Not exactly how I expected to die,” Caweeta commented.

Esa snorted. “Proof God has a sense of humor.”

“El.” Roxy said the name with awe. “I still can’t think of God as the same guy.”

“Maybe he isn’t,” Tuck offered. “Maybe God is something entirely different.”

The conversation ground to a halt, leaving them alone with their thoughts. Eventually, Esa made his way to the minifridge. He returned with a whole pecan pie. Without a word, he divided it into quarters and placed them on four plates. No one protested a lunch with enough sugar to make them sick, but no one ate with zeal either. After an hour of half-hearted jabs, none of them had cleaned their plate. He cleared the table, putting the leftovers on a single plate in the fridge.

“Enough,” Esa announced. “I ain’t goin’ out all sad-sack like this.” Holding out both hands, he asked, “Who’s up for a round of hide the sausage?”

“Has anyone told you lately that you’re an asshole?” Still Tuck took one outstretched hand, anxious to think about anything but death.

Once Roxy took the other, Esa turned to Caweeta. “Care to join us?”

She shrugged. “The novelty wore off a long time ago. Before Roxy I couldn’t tell you the last time I bothered.”

“So let me show ya a good time.”

She walked to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m gonna pass. I’m old. Tired of everything. If it’s my time, then I’m glad to go. If not, I’ll stay a while longer, still glad it’s my last hoorah.” Then she headed for her room.

Esa didn’t waste a moment; in his haste he practically dragged Tuck and Roxy to the foot of his bed. He smushed their faces together like a six-year-old with dolls. “Time for Mommy and Daddy to kiss and make up.”

Tuck jerked back with every intent of telling Esa to go to hell. Instead Roxy latched a leg around Tuck and pulled herself high enough to reach his lips. Her affection genuine and sweet, he forgot everything except the intoxicating feel of her. Both her legs locked around Tuck’s hips, she giggled. To support her weight, he slipped his hands under her, her skin feverish in his grip.

Her shirt passed between them as Esa tugged her tee over her head. She leaned into Esa’s chest with a contented sigh. As his caress grew more intense, she issued a breathy moan. Esa took a step back, tugging her from Tuck’s grip until the rest of her clothes lay in a pile at their feet.

He whispered in her ear, “Show him.” Then he moved behind Tuck.

Roxy spun. A few fading yellow marks crossed her ass and thighs. “See, nothing too bad. I had a good cry.” She bent, running her hands along her abused flesh. “And I do feel better now.”

“Good.” When his own shirt rose, Tuck lifted his arms. Pants and underwear next, then shoes and socks, he stood naked as well. When he knelt behind her to trace her marks, he mumbled against her softness, “I still love you so much it hurts.”

“I love you too. A hopeless, maddening craze I could never really shake.”

“Good,” he mumbled again.

Before she could say anything more, he guided her to turn. A kiss to her mound and he opened her with his thumbs. He flicked his tongue over her pearl, turning her giggles into moans. Lifting her knee to his shoulder, he delved deeper.

Trembling on one leg, her soft mewling became urgent. His seeking fingers found her slick and ready. One slid inside, then another. Her weight shifted to him as she bucked into his touch.

She stiffened, stood still as a statue. Her juices trickled down his forearm. Unbreathing, she shivered and quaked, gripping his fingers with each convulsion. A gasp for air and she whined, high and pleading.

Tuck eased from her, pausing only long enough to kiss her again.

“Now that was hot.” Esa watched from the desk chair, absently stroking his erection through his underwear. “Another three like that and I might be ready to start.”

“It occurs to me,” Roxy said between pants and shudders, “you’re the only one who hasn’t been in the middle.”

“What if I don’t wanna be in the middle?”

Tuck went to wipe his face, only his hand was no less damp.

Roxy placed her other foot on the floor. “Hmm, also seems you’re hiding over there. Watching. As if this weren’t your idea in the first place.”

“Oh? And if I wanna just sit and watch?” Esa’s gravely timber betrayed his casual smirk.

“I’d bet Tuck could change your mind. While I watch.”

Tuck found his shirt on the floor. “Hey, how’d I get sucked into this?”

“Suck,” she echoed. “Exactly.” She nudged his foot with a toe. “I want to see Big Bad Esa beg for once.”

Tuck patted his face dry, considering.

Esa asked, “And you think that’s a one-man job?”

She grabbed Tuck’s hand as she sauntered toward Esa. “He’s always been your weakness.” She released Tuck and continued until she stood behind the chair.

Tuck sank to his knees and propped his head against Esa’s inner thigh. Looking up at Esa, he asked, “Since when?”

His wicked chuckle set butterflies loose in Tuck’s stomach. “Since the first time I saw you cry.”

Swallowing hard, Tuck debated how he should take that. “I was all of five, maybe six.”

“I know.” Esa ran his hands through Tuck’s hair. “And now ya ain’t.” His voice took on a wistful note. “Shit, you were an annoyin’ kid. I hadn’t expected Colt to jump at me like that. Didn’t mean to break his ribs. And there ya were, just bitchin’ like hell, threatenin’ to tattle.”

Tuck snorted. “So did you mean to break my nose?”

Esa leaned close and tilted Tuck’s chin up to face him. “I meant for ya to bleed. And the instant ya did, I knew — I fuckin’ knew — I had to keep ya as far from me as fuckin’ possible. Colt’s motherfuckin’ daddy was right; I wanted to do all that nasty shit to you.” The big man wrapped his fingers around Tuck’s throat. “And now I can.”

“Thanks. I think.”

Roxy snickered. “That’s the most fucked-up love story I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah, y’all just keep tossin’ that _l_ -word around.”

“What, we aren’t allowed to love you?” She kissed the shell of his ear before letting her arms slide down his chest.

The bright spark in his gaze turned flinty but still burrowed into Tuck’s aching soul. “Ain’t nobody allowed to love me.”

A bitter thought snuck past Tuck’s defenses. “I still love Colt so damned much.” Unashamed, he swiped his misty eyes.

“Yeah, me too.” Esa pulled back, his hands gripping the low arm rests. “I was supposed to take him out, then hang myself, best I can tell.”

“Pecari stayed one step ahead of us this whole time.” Tuck hated the fear in his voice. “I feel like we’re lambs being led to the slaughter, but I can’t think of any better plan.”

“Hmph, I ain’t never been no lamb. That fuckwad has misunderestimated me at every turn, and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna back down now.”

As his fear retreated, Tuck greeted the rage that slithered under his skin as a cherished friend. “Only one thing would please me more than making him pay.” He hoped his grin didn’t look as demented as it felt. “Watching you take your satisfaction.”

“He owes me that.” Esa drew close again, his own expression as cruel as it had ever been. “But I don’t regret it. Not anymore.” Esa stood, shoving his underwear from his hips. “Not when I can skull fuck ya anytime I please.”

Tuck didn’t bother to protest; they all knew it was true. Instead he parted his lips, only to be instantly gagged on cock. The relief of its withdrawal short lived, Esa shoved into his mouth again. Nothing sweet or gentle, Tuck’s eyes watered as Esa guided him by the hair: forward, too deep, then back again.

Before Tuck could shove away in protest, Roxy asked, “Don’t you think that’s a bit rough?”

Esa didn’t slow. “Nah, sweetness, he’ll tell me—” He toppled awkwardly forward so his hands rested heavily on Tuck’s shoulders.

“I said that’s a bit rough,” Roxy repeated.

Head back, back swayed, Esa moaned. Locking eyes with Tuck, he shivered. “She eats ass? Why didn’t ya warn—?” He threw his head back again.

Amused, Tuck let them fall backward, hitting the rug with a thump. “I suspect that’s just for you.”

Kneeling over him, Esa seized his mouth with a kiss, deep and ravenous. When Tuck stroked Esa’s length, he writhed.

A tiny hand found Tuck’s elbow. “Not so fast. I want him to say it.”

“Ya didn’t warn me she has a sadistic streak neither.” The big man collapsed, his weight unexpectedly welcome, comforting.

“I’d say that’s all yours too.”

In an unexpected frenzy, Esa broke from between them. He bolted for the door to the patio.

Tuck and Roxy exchanged a glance; they’d pushed him too far. _Gored him._

Outside he paced, his steps erratic. He slipped inside, grabbed a pack of cigarettes and lighter from the nightstand drawer, reached back in for a pack of gum, and went back out without a word.

“Shit.” Tuck stood, watching Esa pace and smoke in the bright sunlight as sparse raindrops fell. _The devil’s beating his wife._

Roxy took his hand and pulled herself up. “Yeah.” She led him to the bed, leaving Esa to his private thoughts.


	35. Chapter 35

#  35

After several anxious minutes, Esa came back in. “Yer askin’ a lot, sweetness.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice strained on the verge of tears.

“No, ya deserve to hear it. Both y’all.” For a long moment he only chewed the gum, then spit it into the wrapper and placed it on the nightstand.

Tuck and Roxy remained quiet, allowing him time to think.

“I don’t want it to be true, but it is.”

Roxy sniffled. “And that’s enough. I just—”

“It ain’t enough, ain’t near enough.” Esa began to pace again. “I ain’t gonna die alone and bitter. I owe ya the words, if for that alone.”

“You don’t owe me shit,” Tuck said. “You’ve mourned with me. You’ve given me the forgiveness for Colt that I’d never find any other way. Hell, Roxy and I wouldn’t be speaking if not for you. No one else could do any of that.” He got up and placed a hand behind Esa’s neck, holding the anxious man still so he could study Esa’s pained expression. “I love you. And I know you love me. I don’t need anything more.”

His touch tender, Esa clasped Tuck’s face with one hand, allowing his thumb to run along Tuck’s cheekbone. “Huckleberry, I could agree with ya, but then we’d both be wrong.” He broke eye contact before adding, “That don’t make it no easier.”

The softness of Tuck’s own chuckle surprised him. “Then what would?”

“If my ache for ya never moved from my dick to my heart.”

Roxy touched Tuck’s shoulder. He stepped back, allowing her to nuzzle into Esa’s chest. “You’re overthinking this. We’re yours; we promise to stay. No matter what. Beyond that, nothing matters.”

Tuck leaned in and pressed his lips to her temple. “I always knew you could tame tigers.”

He slipped around to Esa’s back. For the first time, he studied the big man’s tattoo work. The bold, black markings hardly obscured the heaviest scars. The thorn-laden design swirled in a mesmerizing display of twisting vines that formed a shattered skull. Curious now, he pulled Esa’s left hand back. Up close he could make out the faded gothic lettering across his knuckles, so he brought the right hand back as well. They read: PURE EVIL.

Esa pressed his palms together and slid them up between his shoulder blades. His muscles bulged in a display of power and flexibility.

When Tuck grabbed his wrists and squeezed, Esa gasped. “And I’m yers.”

“Hush. Just feel,” Roxy whispered from low on Esa’s body. She grabbed his hips.

Tuck held his wrists in one hand as he rocked in Roxy’s grip. The other hand roamed lower, from one raised scar to the next. When his fingers brushed Roxy’s, they intertwined. Soon Esa trembled between them. Tuck couldn’t help himself — the man oozed sex from every pore — he ground his cock against Esa’s firm ass.

“I’m starting to feel trapped,” Esa said, tone bland.

Instantly Tuck and Roxy stood three steps back.

That made him laugh. “I didn’t say stop.”

“You could lay between us on the bed?” Roxy offered. “Not hemmed in so tight.”

The big man’s chuckle, sexy but sinister, twisted knots low in Tuck’s body. “Nah.” He placed one finger over Roxy’s lips. “I don’t know whether to beg ya stop that cocksuckin’ b’fore I blow my load.” He turned back to Tuck. “Or beg ya to fuck me ’til we’re both limp as ragdolls.”

“We can do both,” Roxy mumbled around his silencing finger.

Esa grabbed her hair and tipped her face up to his. “That’s for Tuck to decide.” Then he lifted her to his hips and kissed her, his muscles tight under Tuck’s caress.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Tuck asked, his mind reeling at the thought of claiming Esa as the big man had claimed him.

He surfaced from Roxy’s kiss long enough to say, “I want ya to have the experience b’fore ya die.”

“I’d forgotten about that,” Tuck admitted. Outnumbered ten to one and headed into an aware enemy’s home turf, death was a distinct possibility. Yet a laugh bubbled from him. “What was it you said? Might as well go out with a bang?”

“Might as well,” Esa muttered.


	36. Chapter 36

#  36

“The rules just changed, huckleberry. Let me take it in,” Esa instructed. “Once yer balls deep, short strokes.” He pressed a small tube into Tuck’s hand. “Slide it in. Squeeze as you pull it out.” He lay on his stomach atop Roxy. “And for fuck’s sake save some for yerself. Ya try to shove in dry, and I’ll rip it out by the roots.”

Tuck asked. “It’s that different from a chick?”

Roxy made a cut-scene motion across her throat. “You need to tell him.”

Esa remained silent so long Tuck began to dread what he might say. “There’s some fancy ass name…” Another moment passed before he shrugged. “Reckon it don’t matter what it’s called. Just… It’s scarred. Like everything else.”

“Okay.” Tuck didn’t even want to know how that happened. Gentle — afraid, if he were honest — he ran a hand across the curve of Esa’s ass. The other man didn’t flinch, but he also didn’t press into the touch. “You sure about this?”

“For me, not so much. For you, positive. I won’t say it’s like nothing else, but it’s gonna be one hell of a mind fuck for ya.” He stroked along his ribs, no longer bruised from constant thumping. “C’mon, huckleberry, ya know ya wanna put a beefy forearm across my neck and gimme hell.”

Not ready to give anyone hell, Tuck shifted to lay on his side by them. “I need a sec; I’m scared I’ll hurt you.”

A loose fist pumped along his shaft, sending a surge of desire through him. “Yer cute when yer worried.”

“You are. All angsty and broody.” Roxy wrapped her hand around Esa’s. “And the way you bite your bottom lip with just that one canine tooth showing? Adorable.”

Tuck raised a brow. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you two were teasing me.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think yer stallin’.” Esa gave Roxy a quick kiss before rising to his knees between her legs. He twisted to cup Tuck’s jaw in both hands. “Ain’t nobody makin’ ya do this.”

Tuck smirked. “Oh, I absolutely have a few favors I want to return.” He leaned up, hooked his arm around Esa’s neck, and pulled him close. Their lips met, hard and demanding.

Esa’s intoxicating scent overwhelmed Tuck’s mind with a profound lust. Greater than sexual desire alone, a zeal for life seized him. Colors bright, sounds crisp, he could taste the myriad of hormones flooding his blood. The powerful beast in his arms wanted to submit to him? He’d be damned if anything would stop him from staking the monster that had lurked in the shadows of his existence for as long as he remembered.

Down Esa’s neck, across his shoulder, and along his back, Tuck kissed his way around until he knelt behind the man. Knees between Esa’s and Roxy’s, mindful of the trust being placed in him, Tuck rested both hands on Esa’s ass before easing his cheeks open.

Esa groaned into the curve of Roxy’s neck. The sound generated a thrum of desire in Tuck’s chest that left him breathless.

Suture scars? And that’s a cut, not a tear.

Tuck pulled the tab on the lube. He didn’t notice Esa’s thickened rim until he threaded the tube through it. The damage seemed old, but it must have been significant at some point. No wonder he decided he’d had enough ass play for one lifetime.

Yet he’d made an exception.

Tuck vowed to make this exchange worthy.

Slick and rock hard, he touched the tip to Esa. That was all it took. The big man opened and slid down him as if he’d done this a million times before.

Perhaps he had.

Once Tuck was buried to the hilt, he bucked. Esa fluttered around him. Tuck pulled back only as far as his own skin would slide, then thrust again.

Though the physical sensation paled in intensity against some of their other reindeer games — that term amused him — the mental thrill spiraled ever higher. Not some average guy surrendering his body to Tuck, Esa represented danger as much as safety and fear as much as love. Most of all, the big man embodied power in Tuck’s mind, and now that power bowed to his pleasure.

Yet impaled and vulnerable, the faith Esa placed in him created an awed but delicate communion, a spiritual exchange between two souls no less bare than their bodies.

Esa plunged into Roxy, so Tuck let him dictate the depth and pace. Her legs locked around Tuck’s as she rose to meet Esa. Despite their years as lovers, her spirit surprised Tuck.

His fire for her had become a steady flame instead of the greedy, self-consuming inferno of their youth. She deserved a man standing at her side instead of forcing her onto that pedestal she so hated. After seeing how she flourished in the freedom of Esa’s embrace, Tuck released his grip on her reins time and again. He could only hope he’d surrender his need to protect her from the dangers of life.

Before she hurt herself.

He brushed that worry from his mind. Instead he savored the moment. They moved as one. Every touch, every squeeze, every desperate moan and gasp added another layer to their connection.

The first strains of Guns n Roses’ “Sweet Child of Mine” drifted up from the pipe organ, haunting and beautiful. Esa moved in time with the music, his body growing strained between them. A fine sheen of sweat covered his back, and his motion grew erratic.

“Soon,” he whispered to Roxy.

That simple admission caused Tuck’s balls to twist and jerk. The spasm brought stars to his vision that reminded him to breathe. “Me too.”

Eyes closed, mind focused, Tuck lost himself. A primal growl tore from him as his fingers dug under Esa’s collarbones. Warm tingles radiated from his thighs as the pressure grew. In a world of black electric velvet, the first spurt shot from him, followed by more.

Slumping and spent, Tuck panted. Buried in Roxy Esa trembled and jerked, then fell still.

Reluctant to face reality again, Tuck didn’t pull back until he’d gone flaccid. Once he lay flopped beside them, Esa collapsed on the far side of Roxy.

Her whimper hit an urgent note. “Please,” she begged, the lone word breathy with her need.

“Sorry, sweetness.” Esa caressed one breast. “Just let us catch our breath.”

“And maybe a shower,” Tuck added, teasing her other breast as her chest heaved.

Tuck waited and watched. When Esa started to turn toward Roxy, Tuck shot one arm under the small of her back and the second between her legs to clasp his forearm. “Oh, no, this _O_ ’s mine too.” _I hope._ He pulled her to his chest to prove to himself he wasn’t too spent to lift her, ignoring the liquid that rolled toward his elbow.

Her balled fists landed playfully on his back. “What are you doing?”

“I’m running off with you before Esa can make you come.” He shoved to his feet with her slung over his shoulder.

Legs kicking she squealed as Tuck carried her across the room. “Put me down, Put Me Down, PUT ME DOWN!”

“I will. In the shower. Now duck for the doorframe.”

Still all giggles she stilled. Once back on her own feet, she hmphed at him in an exaggerated pout.

Tuck pulled down the shower head and pointed it away from him. Then he turned on the water.

“AH! COLD!” Roxy yelped, hopping from foot to foot to escape the spray.

Amused by her antics, Tuck smirked. “So I see.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Esa!” She crossed her arms over her breasts to stop their jiggle as she yanked one leg and then the next up from the chill water.

“Prob’ly,” Tuck admitted, fighting the urge to laugh at her frantic dance.

Whoever was at the organ downstairs started in on something classical.

Once the water warmed, he slid the showerhead between her legs and turned it upward.

“Definitely too much time with Esa,” she cooed, eyes closed.

“Y’all do realize I’m right here,” Esa added as he stepped in beside them.

When she reached to guide the flow, Tuck pulled the showerhead back. “One little thing first.”

“You’re teasing me,” she accused.

“Absolutely.” He rinsed his face and arms, then directed the water over his crotch.

Before he could reach for the soap, Esa lathered a citrus shampoo over his cock, the massage bringing him only semi-rigid before the bigger man said, “Rinse.”

That done, Tuck turned the water on Roxy again. In moments, she took the showerhead from him with a sigh. Once her features became strained, he spun the dial that diverted the water to the vertical jets along the shower walls.

Her expression held an adorable mix of disbelief and mild anger. “So you’re both assholes now?”

“We’re cold, sweetness.” Esa to the rescue.

Tuck nodded, noticing the goosebumps along his arms.

“Orgasm denial? Seriously?” She huffed.

Her feigned outrage had Tuck grinning like an idiot. He could definitely see what Esa got out of this. “Just a little delay.”

“Patience. Ya’ll get there.” Esa sidled up behind her. “Maybe a few more times.”

She melted against him. “Promise?”

“Promise,” they assured her together.

“This shower is amazing,” Tuck commented as the stall filled with steam. “I wish we could stay here forever, but I suspect it’s all gonna go piff as soon as Gary’s gone.”

Roxy nodded. “I was thinking Chamblee would be a good place for the four of us.”

Both men blinked at her in confusion. “We’re gonna take Caweeta?” Esa asked.

“She’s welcome to come if she wants.” She gave them a hard look as if they were dense. “Y’all do realize where babies come from, right? And Esa would make a great housespouse.”

Both men sputtered. “No, oh, hell no!” Tuck protested. “No sadist is gonna be raisin’ my kid!”

“He raised Colt just fine,” she countered.

“He beat the shit outta him.”

“Only because his abuser implanted the idea that he was doomed to molest smaller kids. And he’s learning to manage his emotions—”

Tuck couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “A hard-on doesn’t count as personal growth!”

“He’s working on his issues. More than most people can say. I could have my therapy practice at home, so he’d have a few breaks during the day.”

Staring at her, Tuck asked in sincerity, “You’ve really thought this thing out?”

“I’ve had months to consider it.” She gaped at them. “Really? Guys, if I wasn’t prepared for a baby, you’d both have been wrapped, and I’d be on the pill.”

“She does got a point there,” Esa admitted, “but I don’t know ’bout this whole whore-to-housewife plan.”

“You’ll be great!” She beamed at him. “You cook, you clean. If things get too heavy or if you realize the kid’s strong emotions are amusing you too much, I’ll be right there.” She turned to Tuck. “Then, when you get home, one of us can watch the kid, leaving the other two free to be adults for a while. None of that extreme burnout I see from new mothers trying to do it all. None of the constant longing for adult conversation.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Tuck said.

“It is easy: Mommy, Poppy, and Daddy do what comes naturally.”

“Housespouse.” Tuck chuckled at the thought. “You’re right; Esa’s perfect.”

“I ain’t agreed to this shit yet.” Esa slipped between Tuck and Roxy, dropped to his knees, and began licking her.

“You will,” she said before letting her eyes close again.

“I’ve had my own money since…” He pressed his face to Roxy’s thighs. “Since Tom.”

Tuck had to ask, “Tom Pritchett?”

Esa rocked back to his heels. “What about him?” he demanded, fists balled.

The hostility in Esa’s reply warned Tuck to tread carefully. “One of yours?”

“Was.” His fists relaxed only a little. “The first.”

Tuck raised an eyebrow but kept his outrage to himself. “First?”

Esa hesitated as he peered back and up. “First of mine. Well after Uncle Fucker turned me out for a quick buck.”

Resenting his own morbid fascination, Tuck nodded in silent hope Esa would continue.

“Maybe he did wrong, but he treated me good. Never fed me bullshit. Forced me to take a hard look at my life. Took me to someone at the health center, got me cleaned up, explained how to stay that way. Made sure I kept at least half what I made. Taught me a shitload about running a business. Held me to my promise to stay off the needle… Tom kept me from sliding too far into hell. At least until I got too burly for his tastes.”

Esa laughed to himself, burying his face in Roxy’s knees. “For a long time, I wished he was my daddy. Hell, for all I know, he is.”


	37. Chapter 37

#  37

Four in the morning came too soon. “Nobody was gonna sleep anyway,” Esa commented as he turned off the alarm.

By the time they and Caweeta made it downstairs, the entire house buzzed with last minute preparations. Hardened faces, some stained with tears, greeted them at every turn. Most gave a curt nod before they turned back to their loved ones.

Wesley Ross’s crushed expression said he remembered what Gary had told him. Yet he mustered a wan smile for them. “I should have come with you when you asked the first time.” He heaved with a bitter groan.

Seeing the man’s genuine pain, Esa reached out. “There’s nothin’ I can say or do, parson.”

Wesley took offered the hand and squeezed. “Your thoughts are appreciated.”

Tuck highly doubted that. As Esa continued onward, he realized no one would remember Lil’ Wes as a Reaper. Unlike Colt. That had to eat at the big man. Everyone knew a Reaper, most related to one, yet only Colt had been singled out.

But they didn’t have time to deal with that now.

Tuck reached for Wesley’s hand as well, though he worried that his scent of death might upset the man further.

The reverend’s expression glazed to a wistful, dreamy stare. “I knew even before Dee rang the bell. I simply knew he was gone.” Interesting, the man’s mind had filled in the blanks left by Gary’s story. “He was a good boy, if willful. He wrote every week while on his mission, and I could see how much good he was doing in the world. I feel lucky to have known him.”

“Me too,” Tuck lied. In truth he felt lucky to have survived Pecari’s prophetic head.

Grim-faced people funneled into the garage slowly. Peter’s four teams found their places near the Cuban lieutenants, who handed out the weapons they’d prepared. Tuck knew this would be a bloody, fiery slaughter, but he wondered which side would go down in flames. Gary and Kim stood together, watching in silence, Tuck’s anxiety mirrored in the demon’s tight features.

Seeing that, he suspected some of his worry about this offensive belonged to his progenitor. “How bad is it?”

Gary didn’t bother to look his way. “Pecari is more sly and cruel than any soul I’ve ever known. He’ll be ready for anything.”

“What’s between you two?” Tuck asked as the trickle of people parted around them.

“I don’t know.” Gary’s chuckle held no amusement. “Some imagined slight lost to the tides of time, and that hothead’s still on the warpath.”

“So ya stole his pig?”

“Something like that.” Gary grinned at his reference to the Hatfields and McCoys. “The fight was well underway when his favorite fae sought asylum in my kingdom. And ever since…” He settled a hand at the nape of Kim’s neck. “I’ve had a little weakness.” After studying her in silence, he asked. “Want to give them a demonstration of what you’ve learned?”

“I told you, Gary Just Gary, you never have to ask.”

“Then _please_ humor me.”

She huffed at his insistent politeness but grinned as she opened her hand to reveal a pale teal-green flame dancing in her palm. “I can control it! Watch.” The fire took form as a vulture that flew over their heads. It disappeared when she leaned in to nuzzle Gary’s cheek.

 

 

Sitting on the tailgate of Esa’s truck outside the limits of Templeton, Gary pinched the bridge of his nose.

Esa grinned. From his perch on the wheel well, he stretched his legs out straight. “Wonderin’ why the horny bastards can’t get laid already and shut the hell up?”

Gary chuckled. “Ah, yes, the tranquil quiet of the country.”

Tuck stood in the truck bed, watching over the cab. Overhead a lone security light cast its wan light over them. A single bat swooped at the moths circling the bulb, yellow motes in the night. Beside the road, a line of three-foot posts of solid granite still held taut the rusted barbwire encased by century-old tree trunks.

When the first plume of fire rose near the horizon, Tuck called, “That’s our cue.” Judging by the way his heart thumped, he’d taken too much stimulant. He felt jittery but that would pass.

Gary shook his head. “Give the locals a few minutes to catch on. Then we’ll drive into town.”

Everyone checked their gear again. Tuck had taken a backpack of explosives and a .45 for himself. Roxy had been easy to please: a rifle with scope and a flamethrower. Caweeta travelled light, a ka-bar knife at her belt, a variety of blow darts, and the walkie-talkie that connected them to Peter. Kim wanted a flamethrower but decided it might be dangerous if her control slipped. Instead she selected one of the AK47s to pair with the first aid kit.

Gary had the strength for a machine gun, and his hosts hadn’t disappointed, signing out an M249 from the nearby National Guard armory. Unfortunately their charade gained five rifle magazines instead of linked ammo belts. That limited him to short, mindful, semi-automatic bursts instead of crowd-mowing, full-automatic sweeps.

The entire affair left Esa antsy. He preferred shredding his enemies with his claws but carried a 16-gauge shotgun and blow darts. Once they were stunned, he could take them out however he pleased.

All told they had several hundred rounds between them, surely enough for the decapitation raid on Pecari’s stronghold.

More plumes of fire reached into the sky from the horizon.

The walkie-talkie squelched at Caweeta’s hip. “Not seen a soul yet,” Peter advised.

Gary scowled. “Tell him to keep going.” When Tuck’s stomach pitched, he knew for certain that Gary’s worry had kicked into overdrive. “The hosts haven’t seen anything move either.”

“So where are they?” Tuck asked.

Gary let out a heavy sigh. “Worst case, Pecari’s at an altar, converting their souls into hosts as fast as he can.”

“So everyone’s in the church?”

“If I had to guess.”

That tickled Esa to no end. “Tuck made enough explosives to bring that bastard down ten times over.”

Gary turned to Caweeta. “Plan’s changed. Tell Peter to meet us at the church.” He motioned for Roxy to start the engine. “We’ll take them all out in one blow if this works.”

They arrived a few minutes after the first pincer crew. The other three pulled in only moments later.

“Work the putty into the support structures. Don’t worry about the triggers, just toss them back in the bag,” Tuck instructed. “And be damned sure not to set them off.” He waved to Marco Chavez, who trotted over. “We need these to go off as one. Do we have enough wire to connect them in parallel to a car battery?”

“Not here.” Marco nodded to the hosts overhead. “Maybe they can nab some? Just some cheap speaker wire would be good enough.”

Tuck asked Sirica, who assured him he’d have several rolls within minutes. _Damned useful._

He headed to the far side of the massive building with Esa, Roxy, and Caweeta. They each grabbed several of the explosive packs from his backpack and spread out along the base of the building.

Ten minutes later, Sirica dropped off a half-dozen rolls of telephone cable. Tuck, Marco, and Junior strung the explosives together. As the sky lightened ahead of the sunrise, they spooled wire out to the vehicles.

Voltage drop over distance wasn’t Tuck’s strong suit, so they wired the batteries in parallel also. Once the negatives were connected, he crossed his fingers. Crouching behind a wide granite outcropping, he checked that everyone had taken cover. Then he touched the positive from the batteries to the positive leading to the charges.

One spark.

WHUMP!

A wall of hot air slammed over him. His ears popped and his eyes watered.

The earth shuddered under his feet as the cathedral collapsed, one rumble after another. Debris filled the air, fine particulates that made him cough. In seconds it was over.

Tuck peeked out. The building lay in ruin.

And he still saw no hint of man nor beast.

Gary strode straight into the wreckage. The words that spewed from him had to be curses, but Tuck couldn’t identify the language. “The altar isn’t standing; it was never properly consecrated.”

“One step ahead,” Tuck muttered. “So what now? We just start taking out churches as we find them? There must be a dozen in a five-mile radius.”

“Consecrated?” Esa asked. “Like with blood?”

“Yes,” Gary replied. His fury left Tuck desperate for a fight.

“What about Stone Table? Liter’ly a stone table out in the woods that the local Satanists have bled on for decades. We passed the cut off on the way here.”

“Oh, sweet boy, I could kiss you!” Gary’s laugh turned to a cough, but his maniacal glee rose in Tuck’s chest.

The rollercoaster of Gary’s emotions left Tuck jittery.

The demon winked at him. “I seem to be leaking, but you are too. It’s part and parcel of having a bit of my soul. I’ll show you some parlor tricks for that later. Right now, let’s wreak some havoc.”

In minutes they reached a roadblock of cars parked solid on the dirt road to Stone Table. From there they walked into the rising sun.

Caweeta shifted into her deer form, blazed ahead, then dashed back to report, “I’d say he’s turned twenty at most.”

Gary asked, “Can you get Roxy close enough to snipe him?”

She rubbed her eyes as she thought. “I don’t know.”

“I’m willing to try,” Roxy replied.

Tuck’s heart raced in protest of Roxy on the front line. “But it won’t send him into the void.”

“Huckleberry makes a good point,” Esa said. “I say we go in all Shock and Awe.”

Tuck managed not to laugh at how desperately Esa wanted Pecari for himself.

Peter suggested, “Something quick to disrupt the process.”

Esa huffed. “I’m taking that bastard out.”

Peter shook his head. “Maybe. If we play this smart. Otherwise we’re dead.”

Sullen, Esa nodded. “Fine. You make the calls. But if I see a chance, I’m taking it.”

“The flyers move in fast, throw bombs, create confusion. Then the rest of us ambush them. Yeah?”

Esa nodded. “Yeah. Got it.” That man missed his calling as a stripper. Naked, his ribs expanded, his body elongating. “A quickie before we really fuck ’em.” His tail swished, growing longer.

Caweeta and Esa giggled at Tuck’s discomfort as he tossed his clothes onto a modern-style Volkswagen bug. “You two are so helpful.” He pushed his wings from his back. “So very helpful.”

“You goin’ like that?” Esa asked.

“Roxy’s right; you do make an excellent house­spouse.” As Esa swiped at him, he fluttered out of reach. “I’m strongest like this, asshole.”

Resupplied with explosives, Tuck joined Gary, Kim, and ten of Gary’s hosts, the other two back guarding the home front. Faster and more agile as a bird, Tuck gave in, completing his change to bird in midair so he could keep up with the others. That left his backpack loose, so he pulled it free with his talons.

 _Don’t hit Pecari directly._ The thought didn’t belong to Tuck.

He rolled his eyes. _Yes, Dad._ Then he wondered if Gary could actually hear that thought.

Gary chuckled. _I hear you fine._

They found the massive line of people awaiting their turn in Pecari’s ritual.

 _Get ready, kids._ Gary’s elation flew far higher than his body, which skimmed a scant foot over the tallest treetops. _We’re almost to the altar._

Tuck shifted form again and awkwardly shrugged the backpack on. Then he had to fight to grab an explosive bundle. Still, by the time Gary announced, _Bombs away_ , he’d ripped off the plastic bottle cap. He pressed the button and dropped the first one into a tangle of pig-like javelina hosts.

Three dissipated into black tendrils in the morning light. The rest grunted and chased after their attacker, some sprouting wings.

Tuck wrested a second bundle from his backpack. After starting the timer, he dropped it over the hosts on the ground. Aware this time, they scattered.

Damn.

Something latched onto his shoulder straps. A host. It dropped its wings, dragging Tuck down.

In full bird form, he abandoned his backpack and darted free. Explosives and pistol gone, Tuck circled back toward the advancing wall of friendly fighters.

They weren’t facing unarmed cultists this time. Everyone had a weapon of some sort, and the muzzle fire of gunplay flashed from both directions.

Partway up a pine, Roxy sniped off one cultist after another. Half shifted, Esa stayed close to Peter as if the man had him leashed; hell, for all Tuck knew, maybe he did somehow.

Then the stench hit him. A mix of shit, blood, and burned flesh.

Death.

And God forgive him, he loved it.

When Marco grunted and went down, Tuck spiraled to his side. “You hit?”

“Had worse.” He chuckled. “But not by much.”

Tuck helped the man to his feet and walked him to the support area behind their advance. There he grabbed a blowgun and satchel of darts someone had discarded.

Drawn to his lover, Tuck headed straight for Esa. They fell into a rhythm: Tuck stunned them, and Esa ripped out their throats. Everything moved smoothly.

Right up until it didn’t.

Six hosts had them surrounded.

Tuck hit one; the dart did nothing.

“Back to back,” Esa yelled.

Tuck clutched the blowgun like a club as he pressed his back to Esa’s.

A shotgun blasted, but Tuck couldn’t know if it helped.

Another.

Esa’s weight slammed into him, knocking him on his face. Tuck rolled over. Four hosts had their vicious tusks in Esa yanking him apart. Hands scrambling, Tuck searched the pine needles and leaf litter. Shotgun!

Uncomfortable with aiming so close to Esa, Tuck twisted and turned, never gaining confidence in his angle. Finally he jammed the barrel into the base of one host’s neck and fired, hoping he didn’t just maim Esa. It squealed like the pig it resembled before dissolving into black tendrils that dissipated in the weak morning light.

Raw force sent Tuck sprawling.

He rolled to his stomach to flap into the air. Searing pain burst from his calf. Unable to lift free, he pecked out the host’s eye, but it simply formed a new one.

A quick glance to Esa, he had one in his jaws, tendrils peeling from it as he whipped it from side to side, but two more clung to his legs.

Tuck was on his own.

Standing on one leg, his rage-fueled stabs landed fast and hard in the host’s face. A dozen hits and the beast finally released its grip.

It backed up only to charge again.

Before it could latch on to his uninjured leg, Tuck leapt upward and flapped higher. _Obstinate little fuck._ High over the fight, he turned, swooped, and buried his beak into the creature’s shoulder. The stab hit true, striking the beast hard and deep.

With an inhuman scream, it listed to one side.

Tuck rose up and dived again, hitting the same shoulder with all he had.

The host yelped and tumbled, then scurried backward with a squeal.

 _One more dive might do it._ When Tuck reached a decent height, he again turned for his prey.

His wing snagged and lifted. One of the flying hosts hefted him higher. With his wing in its mouth, it shook its head violently. Tuck heard the snap before pain washed over him, the bone broken.

As he rose higher he knew he was in trouble. The height grew dizzying. If he could just get to the creature’s back, he could choke it, but even then, he’d have to manage his fall.

Fatigued, the host’s ascent slowed, then they began to dip with each stoke of its wings. Tuck clung to its sleek leg, which churned in the air in the effort to stay aloft.

Sure enough, the bastard let go.

Hand over hand, his one good wing giving him a boost, he clambered up the host’s thrashing leg. Flapping wildly, each effort sparked fresh agony. His snapped wing caught only a fraction of the air it should.

The beast snagged his upper arm, yanked him from its body, and let him fall.

Shocked Tuck spiraled downward. Seconds passed as the ground rushed toward him. The analytical part of his mind — the only part that wasn’t frozen — estimated his velocity exceeded anything he’d seen in a car and continued to rise at thirty-two feet per second, per second. It screamed for him to pull from his nose-down position, but no part of him responded.

The earth below was beautiful, mesmerizing, and he resigned himself to this death, closing his eyes on reflex within inches of impact.

His nose crunched; his neck snapped to one side as the rest of his body collapsed atop him.

Darkness.

Quiet.

Stillness.

Peace.


	38. Chapter 38

#  38

Consciousness returned to Tuck slowly, his last memories reluctant to appear. He felt like he’d been shot from a cannon straight into a brick wall, which wasn’t far from the truth. His face throbbed with his heartbeat, when it refrained from blooming into a soul-crushing misery that dominated his mind.

He opened his eyes on a harsh light and shut them just as quickly. His attempted scream came out as little more than a gurgle. When he told his limbs to move, they failed to respond. Flat on his back, each breath inflamed the ache in his spine and pelvis.

Broken neck?

Yet he felt the impact from head to toe. So partial damage to his spinal cord? He might recover from that.

Then another sensation captured his attention: from the shoulders down, he felt sweaty. And tight. And sickly hot. Despite the comfortable temperature of the gentle breeze against his face.

Maybe a blanket held him?

He blinked against the overhead glare until his eyes could tolerate the assault. The ceiling fan meant this was no hospital. And the four sockets that swayed under the fan each held a bulb well brighter than the typical forty-watt limit.

Eyes working, he found he could twist his neck, though not without pain. To the right floral beige velveteen, the pile crushed where it hadn’t been worn threadbare. So he lay on a couch from the early eighties? To the left, a distant open doorway across a large, empty industrial space.

Then he looked down his body. Nude, arms tight to his side, legs straight, he seemed to be wound tight in something. Clear plastic?

“Oh, good, you’re awake.”

Tuck knew that melodic drawl. Pecari.

Desperate in his terror, Tuck rolled his eyes toward that saccharine voice. A groan seeped from his lips.

“Yes, you’re quite right. Your cocoon is incomplete. But I wanted you awake for this part.” Colt’s gentle whiskey-brown eyes gazed down at him from Carson Nix, who lifted Tuck’s head into his lap as he sat. He pulled a few feet from a roll of cellophane and slipped it between himself and Tuck. “This is the best part, after all, and it’d be a shame for you to miss it.”

Then he pulled the plastic over Tuck’s face.

Mouth agape in shock, Tuck gasped. Head turned, he managed a half-breath before the plastic sealed over his mouth. Mind screaming, body helpless, he thrashed against his bindings even as Nix ran another layer and then another around his head. The stars came fast, his panic burning oxygen to fuel his hopeless kicking and squirming. Every muscle in his body surged in pure, unadulterated terror. Though his efforts weakened with each passing second, he waged a bitter fight for his life.

One he was losing.

Barely a minute later, his vision dimmed and narrowed. The void loomed over him. It tasted as electric as the sparks in his eyelids. The _whoosh_ of his blood reverberated in his ears.

An instant before asphyxiation overwhelmed him, a piercing agony sliced from his ear to the corner of his mouth, across his lower lip, to the other ear. In one titanic pant, he sucked in a great lungful of air.

“There we go; that’s a good boy,” Pecari cooed. “See, I’m gonna look after you.” He stroked with false affection across Tuck’s encased forehead. “Gonna take way better care of you than you took of little Colt.”

Terrified and panting, Tuck didn’t even try to scream. He merely watched through the plastic as Pecari’s hazy form stood and left.

Blood seeped under the plastic, tickling down his neck. And no matter how much he wriggled and flexed, there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.

His struggles had loosened the plastic wrap just enough to flex at his knees and hips. With considerable effort he wormed onto his right side, hiding his swollen, sensitive eyes from the light overhead. The effort left him overheated, but it relieved some of the pressure from his back.

Mind restless, Tuck struggled to focus. How would Esa survive this? Poetry? Did he concentrate on rhyme and meter at times like this? Not Tuck’s strong point. Instead he challenged himself to calculate the energetic remainders of exothermic reactions. When that couldn’t hold his interest any longer, he moved along to selecting features for the perfect nano delivery system in a dozen different scenarios.

At this rate he’d be massacring poorly recalled poetry soon enough.

Without the shift of natural light, he couldn’t gauge the passage of time. Despite his increasing dehydration, he grew desperate to empty his bladder. His two options, whiz now or hold out a little longer, engaged in a heated battle, but ultimately his need won out over his dignity.

Which only added to the soup in which he stewed for the hours ahead.

“Bad boy!” A muffled grunt accompanied Pecari’s scolding.

Tuck was certain that didn’t bode well.

“You got blood on the couch!”

His wretched cocoon toppled to the concrete floor. The rough landing awoke his crunched bones, leaving Tuck stunned and blinded by pain.

“Stay off the furniture until you learn to keep your bodily fluids to yourself.”

A blade sliced in short choppy strokes from the back of his head all the way down to the arch in his left foot. Where it nicked, the cuts burned as if doused in acid.

“Best get yourself cleaned up. You have a shit ton of funerals you won’t be attending. You’re now the last of your kind.” The glee in Pecari’s pronouncement wounded Tuck almost as much as the words. “And feel free to run any time you please. I have five hundred hosts jumping for a chance to drag you back to me.”

Then Pecari was gone again.

Everyone was dead? All of Templeton turned into hosts?

Tuck struggled to his hands and knees. He managed to crawl forward, shaking free of the filthy plastic before he collapsed to the cool floor.

_Roxy and Esa couldn’t be dead; I’d feel it._

_But would I? Or is that connection all in my mind._

_And all the rest? Dead? It’s just not possible._

_“Denial is the first stage,”_ Roxy’s voice informed him.

_Y’all can’t be gone; I’d know._

_Like Wesley knew Lil’ Wes had passed?_

Tuck let his head rest on his hands. He had no reply for that sobering thought.

_They’d have left a hollow spot in my heart._

_Oh, that’s coming_ , Tuck assured himself. _That and so much worse._

Rage boiled up from his soul. _Pecari_. Tuck fixed the man in his mind and fed all his hate and pain into the effigy. He’d never considered himself vengeful, but damn if he’d ever rest in peace if he didn’t rip a strip off Pecari’s hide.

Yet even his profound rage couldn’t shield him for long.

_Gone?_

Sadness gripped him, buried his intention.


	39. Chapter 39

#  39

Stiff and exhausted, Tuck woke shivering on the floor. Like his battered face, his hip throbbed. He rolled to his back.

He’d cried himself to sleep? He hadn’t done that since he was a little kid, sobbing in his mother’s arms over some forgotten injury. If Pecari intended to break his mind, the demon was off to a damned good start.

Though his own curiosity repulsed him, he was glad Esa had shared so much about Carson Nix. At least he had some vague idea of what to expect.

None of it pleasant.

_Do what you’re told. Keep your mouth shut and your eyes open._

High overhead, the floor had collapsed in spots, allowing him to see through to the roof and even a few patches of gray afternoon sky. Thin light spilled in from the banks of tall windows in the brick walls of both stories. The open, topmost panes let out the hottest air as it rose, leaving the building a bit cooler than the sticky air outside.

Tuck had never been inside a cotton mill before. He could certainly bust his way out, but he didn’t feel ready to face one host, much less hundreds. However he did feel a bit stronger than when Pecari had cut him free. He struggled to one knee, then stood.

_Holy shit._

Behind the couch Jinx Ledbetter’s little sister, Kasey, hung limp and naked from an actual noose. Duct tape covered her mouth and ran around her head, no concern for the hair caught in her gag. If Tuck’s nose weren’t clogged with so much blood, he felt certain he’d have smelled the kid’s death well before now. Hands behind her, neck straight, the young woman had suffocated. _Slow, nasty death._ A knife hung tied at her waist, and Tuck had the sinking feeling that, if he’d gotten up when Nix had freed him, he might have saved her.

Though he was certain that would have been no favor to her. Bloody and bruised from head to toe, he didn’t want to know what had happened to her.

He settled Kasey’s weight onto his shoulder before cutting the rope. Then he eased the woman to the floor.

“Sorry, kid. I didn’t know.” Just another soul added to his long list of regrets.

Nearby sat a gray five-gallon bucket with a white wash rag at the rim, two boxes labeled Meal - Freeze Dried, and two small bottles of water. Enough to get one man through the day. He checked the bucket; more water but it had a sample-size bar of soap half dissolved in the bottom.

He downed both water bottles immediately. Then heaved up half the liquid.

No point in saving his wash water for drinking, the soap would give him instant runs, dehydrating him faster. He fished out the soap and dropped it on the back of the couch. He dampened the rag in the chilly water and gingerly blotted the sweat-loosened blood from his face. Methodic, he worked the rag across every inch, rinsing it often. Finished, he dumped the entire remainder of water over his head, flooding away most of the offensive funk that clung to him.

He shook off the water. Arms covered in goosebumps, he glared at the weird boxed rations. They’d be disgusting, but he needed the calories. Except the food was dehydrated. And he had no water left.

“Asshole,” Tuck muttered as he scanned the expansive room for a spigot.

He doubted any would be functional, as the piping would have been stripped by metal scavengers during one of the many recessions since the last nearby mill closed in the 70s. Still he made his way to the first tap that jutted up from the floor. He turned the knob, and rusty, stagnant water gushed out.

Good.

After several minutes the water cleared. Tuck pressed his mouth into the flow to slurp down a few swallows, careful not to drink too much too fast again.

He unpacked a meal and added water to the flameless ration heater. Once it was hot he stirred it into the “beef stew” and the cocoa. While the stew softened, he downed the weird-ass pretzels and the nuts and raisins mix. The stew itself tasted reasonable enough, and he polished it off quickly.

What now?

With run of the old mill, as far as he could tell, he roamed the empty building. He found nothing useful but stared at every antique oddity just to burn another few minutes.

Time seemed to be one of Pecari’s favorite weapons. Tuck expected him to return in the morning, but just in case, he saved the other meal for tomorrow.

He dragged Kasey to the exit farthest from the couch, the only furniture present. By the door he found a bank of light switches; the seventh one killed the power to the fan and its blazing lights, definitely not part of the original architecture. He opened the door, surprised to find the wiry hide of a real, live javelina sitting attentively outside.

“Shit. I can’t shove her out for pig feed; no one deserves that.”

He’d live with the dead girl.

At least he had a decent place to sleep.

And hours before sundown.

Crap, his failure to save Kasey left him staring at the walls alone. When had he become such a selfish bastard that he weighted someone’s death by the discomfort their loss cost him. Maybe he’d been this way all along and never noticed because he’d been so focused on the social niceties.


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Non-con blowjob

#  40

The dead haunted him, the smell thick on the warm air. Harried day and night, he actually felt relieved to see Pecari on the third day. “That look in your eyes is a good sign, boy; always heard you was a quick study.” He tossed two soup cans to the floor near Tuck. “Should keep you fed a while longer.”

Eyes open and mouth closed, Tuck stood, impassive and leery.

“Time to show your appreciation, cocksucker.” He unfastened his belt.

 _Ok, I can do this_ , Tuck assured himself. _Nothing new._

_Just an affront to my time with Esa._

He couldn’t afford to think like that, to think about Esa or Roxy at all. Otherwise he’d lose his nerve, topple to the floor, and scream to the heavens until his throat bled. Not exactly something he wanted Pecari to witness.

One foot in front of the other, he took a few shaky steps. Instead of meeting Pecari’s gaze or looking at the man’s dick, Tuck stared twenty feet behind the monster, right through his tormentor.

“Crawl, boy. Crawl.”

 _Do what you’re told._ It took all his will to shove aside his pride, but Tuck got to the floor and inched forward on his hands and knees. Knots of revulsion strangled his stomach, but he would do anything to survive long enough to take his satisfaction.

Too resentful to display all Esa had taught him, Tuck simply opened his mouth.

Pecari grabbed him by the back of his head and jerked him forward and back.

As tears of fury formed, Tuck bit down, grabbed the man’s tentacles, and twisted. In a flash he stood, wrapped both hands around Pecri’s throat, and squeezed with everything he had. His wings fluttered open, one hanging limp.

Agony shot through one leg and then the other as a pair of hosts jerked him from their master. Tuck’s ruined face crashed to the cement before the creatures released him.

“Bad boy,” Pecari hissed, low and dangerous, his voice rough from Tuck’s efforts. “But I’m feeling generous. Be a good boy, and I’ll overlook this little indiscretion.”

With no other choice, Tuck rose to his knees.

“There’s my good boy,” Pecari cooed, patting the top of Tuck’s head. “Open wide.”

Bitter, Tuck did as he was told.

 _Lay back and think of England._ The idea appeared as Esa’s words, bitter in his mind. His heart broke again for the boy Esa had been, sacrificing himself to keep Colt and Tuck safe from the monsters of his world.

Tuck refused to swallow the stringy mass that soon erupted in his mouth, instead letting it dribble down his chin and chest.

Pain shot from the back of both his hands, which he’d braced against Pecari’s thighs. Tuck jerked back. A pair of sharp blades affixed over the tips of the demon’s index fingers had slashed deep gashes into the backs of his hands.

“Oh, did Esa fail to mention that? Being a good boy might make it easier, but it won’t save ya.”

Esa’s words fell from the monster. That blasphemy crushed Tuck’s will, leaving him broken and empty. “I don’t want to be saved.”

That reply came unbidden but honest. Without Roxy and Esa, he had nothing left. His parents would mourn, but they’d survive better without the husk of their son sucking every joy from their waning years.

No, Tuck only cared to live long enough to see Pecari die. After that he’d gladly swallow a bullet to end this pain.

But it didn’t end.

Hour after hour.

Day after day.

Week after week.

Month after month.

Tuck mourned until nothing lived inside him. His soul knew only a numb, empty ache.

At first he tried to save the unlucky bastards tossed in with him, but they were always on the edge of death. In late summer, he sat by the body of the fifth of Pecari’s destroyed toys, certain he could nurse the man back to life. If only he could get enough calories for them both. He glared to the graveyard, where four reeking bodies lay stacked by the door.

Cannibalism. That had to be Pecari’s intent. Eat them or die.

Tuck giggled, high and manic. The monster didn’t realize Tuck had surrendered his will to live in the first week. Seeing no reason to force anyone else to endure this hell — and, if he were brutally honest with himself, still greedy for life — he clamped his hand over the man’s mouth and closed his nose to ease him from the realm of the living. Then he dragged the man to the graveyard to join the others.

Barehanded, personal, he stole the life from another damned soul, and he felt nothing. Worse, he didn’t care to feel anything. Death had become his only friend, a vague longing he’d gifted the other man out of his own selfish hope to reclaim some semblance of the life he’d lost.

Autumn passed in such solitude that he looked forward to the brief moments Pecari spared for him, when white-hot pain overtook the abysmal emptiness. For a few seconds he again felt his heart beat with vigor instead of a numb, idle thump.

The nights grew cold. Still naked, he shivered under the cushions of the couch until the sun again warmed his prison. Yet that warmth came later and later until he hardly moved from the scant protection of the worn padding.

Hallucinations visited frequently now. Esa and Roxy mostly, sometimes his parents. Occasionally Gary. A few times he even imagined Pecari had come to torture him, only to realize that the monster was incorporeal when its brutal attacks passed right through him.

Today Esa appeared. He lifted a cushion from Tuck’s crappy fort. “Holy shit, what has that fucker done to ya?” A ragged scar ran over his left eye.

“That’s new,” Tuck muttered, reaching to touch the apparition.

“Not really,” Esa replied, holding Tuck’s chilled, skeletal hand tight to his warm cheek as he scooped Tuck into his arms as if he were weightless. “Got it the same day we lost ya.”

“Oh,” Tuck replied in full, unable to process the information. At Esa’s heat, he asked, “Here to take me to hell?”

“Huckleberry, I’m here to take ya home.”

“My god,” Roxy gasped at Esa’s elbow. “That’s — he’s still alive?”

“Barely.” Esa’s grumble felt comforting.

Content, whether alive or dead, Tuck sank into the furnace of other man’s body.


	41. Chapter 41

#  41

Tuck’s eyes flickered open. Kim hovered over him. Then he slept, what could have been only a blink or a full week.

 

_“…all he could think of, standing on that burning tank, at least his feet were warm.”_

“Yeah,” Tuck muttered weakly, unsure who spoke. “Warm.” He snuggled deeper into the thick bedding that encased him.

 

_“…Dahlmer Party, Donner Party, whatever, you know what I mean.”_

_“Gary said his survival instincts would force the…”_

 

In a quiet, dark, soft place, something shifted beside Tuck. As the webs of sleep cleared from his mind, he saw little but felt the familiar weight of his own bedding draped over him. Coffee scented the air; Roxy always liked coffee. Muffled voices floated from another room.

Ignoring the IV in the back of his hand, Tuck pressed a palm to his thrumming head. “Shit.”

“He lives,” Esa drawled. From that direction, a chair skidded across the padded tiles, setting Tuck’s teeth on edge. “Dumbass, ya ain’t built for combat.” He flicked on the lamp over the work table. “Ya look like shit.”

“Skin’n’bones,” Tuck slurred, his dry tongue clinging to the roof of his mouth. He didn’t have to look; he could feel his ribs and hips jutting, the knobs of his knees and elbows huge in the middle of his limbs. He swallowed thickly. “Did’y’kill’im?”

“Nah, ya ain’t missed the festivities. Not all of ’em anyway. Still a few hosts and the bastard hisself.” Esa’s chuckle dissolved into a bark of brutal intent.

Face contorted with concern, he reached for Tuck’s chin, turning his head from side to side. Then he scowled. “Why ya cryin’? Ya hurt?”

“No. Yes, but—you were dead.” Tuck looped a reed-thin arm around Esa’s neck. “He told me all y’all were all dead.”

Steel glinted from Esa’s chill-gray eyes. “Me and Roxy’s still in this fight.”

Tuck’s lips stuck to his dry teeth. “Who else?”

“Gary, Kim, Isbet, and Marco. And Kwan. Hell, I’m startin’ to think that dude’s indestructible.” He breathed in Tuck’s scent. “Caweeta’s alive, but she’s hurt. So’s Miguel.” As if still in disbelief, he stroked Tuck’s face. “Peter nearly died trying to wrestle ya from Pecari; gotta admit, he won some points there.”

Esa sighed, a pained huff. “Down to six hosts. Lost Sirica and Osceola. They went berserk after you went down. Took so many pig-fuckers with ’em, I’m surprised Colt’s daddy had any left.”

“Now I understand why you never use his name.”

“Got ya good. Sorry ’bout that.”

Tuck felt along the scar that marred Esa’s face. “Got you good too.”

“Damned host. Always my eyes.” The bigger man grinned at that. “Ain’t kilt me yet.” He cleared his throat. “Frank and Junior was furious with me for losin’ ya; reckon they figured anyone else woulda killed Lucy. And they was prob’ly right. They joined Penbrook and his folks, chasin’ down the converts.

“Wiped out dozens of vermin nests, all wearing those damned rings. Crossed into Mississippi about six this mornin’. Gary reckons it’ll be a straight line all the way past Phoenix.”

“How’d you find me?”

“Damn, we searched everywhere. Months of nothing. Then every single buzzard suddenly zeroes in on Whitehall Textiles. Gary told us to expect lots of dead people. And… And nobody said it, but we were all thinkin’ yer dead up in there.” He runs a hand across Tuck’s thin cheek. “And ya damned near were. That lump in the couch was bothering me, and shit if ya weren’t under there, blinking up at me like I was some, I dunno, angel or vision or something.”

Esa tugged free from Tuck’s weak grip. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

Tuck snagged Esa’s wrist. Barely. “Wait.”

The bigger man turned to him.

“Did I… eat…?” Between his shame and revulsion, he couldn’t finish the question.

That didn’t matter. Esa knew. They all knew.

The big man’s head hung low. “I don’t know, huckleberry. Probably? Looked like rats took mosta their fingers, but a few had their guts ripped out. Gary seemed surprised ya’d starved down as much as ya had. Said he was impressed by the strength of yer will… and called ya a dumbass.”

Tuck nodded, a vague unease roiling in his stomach.

Hair wrapped in a towel turban, clad in pyjamas, Roxy burst in from the bathroom but eased into the bed beside him. “You just had to wait until I went to shower, didn’t you?” She grinned at him as if he were shooting rainbows and unicorns out his ass. “Oh, I’m so glad to see you!”

Esa opened the door. “Skeletor’s up.”

Tuck giggled at that, a hysterical fit that left him breathless.

Kim stuck her head in from the common room. “It’s after midnight. We’re gonna let you guys have some time, but Reverend Ross just called. He’s coming for breakfast. Gary hopes you’ll join them?”

Much to Tuck’s surprise, Esa’s grin brightened. “Five sharp.”


	42. Chapter 42

#  42

Not particularly sleepy, Tuck slipped from between Esa and Roxy. He snuck to the kitchenette for a snack. Moments later both followed, unwilling to let him out of their sight.

For the rest of the night, he lay restless between them, crowded in his bed but basking in their warmth until the alarm clock blared.

Fifteen minutes later, with Caweeta limping in tow, they strolled into the banquet room where Gary and Wesley already sat with their heads close together, peering at something on the table.

“I have no idea,” Gary commented.

Upon spotting the four, Wesley burst from his chair. “Ah, Judah returns from captivity.” He wrapped one hand around Tuck’s neck and pulled him into a loose hug. “I’ve prayed for this day for so long.” He turned to hug Esa next. “Congratulations, son, your love walks at your side again.”

“Thanks, padre.”

He greeted Roxy with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “You have endured so much, my dear. So good to see you in better spirits.” Eyes narrow, Tuck pondered Esa’s potential role in her trials until Wesley turned to Caweeta with that same warmth and another hug and kiss. “And you have been such a blessing for these two.”

He turned back just as Tuck closed his mouth. “Don’t look so shocked, Mr. Tucker. I tend to the souls of my flock. It may be a humble calling, but it’s my calling. Simply because I’d never been entrusted to care for a black or homosexual before, that in no way means I won’t. And you’ll be glad to know the Highwater congregation voted to leave the united church when they made that dreadful, homophobic decision.” Though Tuck had no knowledge of church politics, the reverend grinned widely. “In large part, might I add, over a sermon I gave after seeing Esa so distraught, _A Wicked Man’s Pure Love_.”

“Um, thanks.” Tuck had never thought of himself as bi, much less homosexual. Still he appreciated the reverend’s enthusiasm. “I’m glad you gained that perspective.” He tightened his hand in Esa’s. “I’m glad I gained that perspective. I never…” He simply gestured to his hands, gripped firmly by Esa and Roxy. “Well, I never…”

The reverend bobbed his head. “Yes, yes, I’m certain you didn’t.”

Gary caught Tuck’s attention and waved them over. “What do you make of this?” He tapped a religious post-it note stuck to the table.

Tuck leaned over and studied the three lines of numbers.

“It’s my handwriting,” Wesley said, “but I don’t remember writing it, and I don’t know what it means.”

“If I had to guess, I’d say the first two are GPS coordinates, and if we’re lucky this last line is a time and date.”

Hands trapped, Tuck could only gesture vaguely, but Esa pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to him. Once Tuck shook free — the contact surrendered reluctantly — he input the first two sets of numbers into a search bar. A map of the Southwest US appeared with a marker. “Bingo.” He checked the calendar, his finger tracking the dates. “At sixteen-oh-seven hours on Wednesday, I suspect we’ll find Pecari in the desert ghost town of Lost Profit, Arizona. Population fifteen Wild West reenactors and one friendly gila monster.” His smile felt positively wicked as it spread across his face.

The sadistic glee in Gary’s smirk surpassed anything Tuck had seen from Esa. “El, you’ve gone soft, old man.”

“A miracle?” Wesley sounded awestruck. Then he barked a harsh laugh. “If I were Catholic I might qualify for sainthood.”

 

 

After an hour of waiting for Esa to step out, Tuck finally decided he’d have to speak up. “I need you to leave. Not for long, just a few minutes. I need to talk to Roxy. Alone.”

As if Esa had just had his chest curb-stomped, he shrunk in on himself.

“Easy.” Lifting Esa’s chin so he’d meet his gaze, Tuck reminded the now significantly bigger man, “Nobody’s abandoning you. Nobody’s going to abandon you.” He hugged Esa until the man pulled away of his own accord.

With only Roxy in the room, Tuck asked, “How bad was it?”

Her eyes darted to the corner of the room. “We were both freaked out.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” He kept his tone gentle. “Did he hurt you?”

“It wasn’t bad.”

Tuck didn’t reply, simply stroked her back.

“Okay, I thought he’d broke my arm, but it was just bruised.” She sighed. “It hurt him more than me. I worried he’d do something rash.”

Tuck nodded, silently urging her to continue.

“We’d not slept, must have been days. Angry, hurt, exhausted. I don’t remember what he wanted me to do, but I told him to shove it up his ass. He grabbed my arm, yanked me up so we were nose to nose.” Unshed tears glittered in her eyes.

Since she’d long since lost any fear of Esa, Tuck winced, certain she feared his reaction. “Sweetness, I’m not judging you. Not judging him either.”

“When I yelped, something flashed across his face, this… this… malevolent joy. So pleased that I hung there. Helpless. In pain. At his mercy.

“But then he realized what he’d done. He… Christ, Tuck. He… I’ve never seen anyone so disgusted. He dropped me like I was a pit viper.” Her voice held a pleading tone, begging him to understand. “I tried to soothe him, but he just became angrier, a victim comforting her abuser…”

Tuck understood all too well: Esa wanted to be a better man than he was and still hated himself in many ways. “The ribs?”

She shuddered in his arms. “I thought he’d never stop. Pretty sure he broke them. He kept shoving me away, telling me he didn’t deserve kindness, telling me every horrible thing he’d ever done.”

“So what did you do?”

Oh, that smirk was new. “His handcuffs. Sucked, but I could sleep without worrying about him too much.”


	43. Chapter 43

#  43

They had three days for the thirty-hour drive. Penbrook and his men neared Memphis, so Gary’s six-vehicle caravan took the southernmost road, hoping Pecari wouldn’t realize they were on the move. Roxy followed directly behind Gary’s El Camino. Dude could summon a Bugatti if he pleased, but he decided he and Kim would travel by El Camino.

Tuck could only shake his head at that.

He hated road trips. Jammed between Esa and Roxy, the truck’s heat pooled at his feet, scorching him while the others were chilled. Cramped hours on the interstate with only a few stops a day left Tuck’s body numb. They tried games like Never Have I Ever, but soon the monotony numbed Tuck’s mind as well. At night they climbed between thick blankets in the truck bed and pretended to sleep as they watched the stars pass overhead.

Esa and Roxy stayed glued to his sides, terrified to let Tuck out of their sight. Hell, Roxy even tucked her hair under a ballcap and followed them to the men’s room at the rest stops. Clean faced, bundled in winter clothing, no strangers questioned her right to be in the crowded, multi-stall bathrooms.

Loblolly pines gave way to industrial agriculture, then cedars and Spanish moss. Past the Mississippi delta, the land grew flat and harsh. In Texas the hypnotic bob of the oil wells caught Tuck’s eye, but after the tenth one, his interest waned considerably.

Then they hit the Sonoran. Unfamiliar plants lined the roadside like sculpted barbwire. To Tuck’s surprise he smelled rain on the wind.

By the time they passed Phoenix, just shy of noon Wednesday, Tuck wanted a real meal and then a real bed. He settled for a greasy diner lunch.

When Gary went to pay the tab for all fifteen people, the waitress scowled at them. “Tourists,” she snorted. “Y’all watch y’all’s asses out thare. Th’ desert’s perdy but she’s unfergivin’, specially durin’ monsoon season,” she warned in an Appalachian drawl tainted by a Texas twang. “Flash floods hit them gullies fast. Wall er water’ll warsh down from th’ mount’uns, an’ y’all’ll be dead ’fore y’ even know it’s comin’.”

“Where y’all from?” Esa asked.

“Shore ain’t from ’round here,” she replied. “Ain’t nobody _from_ here. ’Bout ever’one’s from off.”

Apparently satisfied, Esa tossed a few extra bucks into the tip pile.

With great reluctance Tuck hauled his ass back into the truck for the last leg of the drive. They looped around Lost Profit to come in from the west.

Then they waited.

The harsh noonday sun glared down. Early afternoon, the stark, crystal-blue sky grayed, unleashing a volley of hail that sent everyone scurrying for shelter. Tuck grabbed part of their bedding from the back of Esa’s truck and hurled himself into the cab, which was never meant for three adults with their pillows and blankets.

Rain followed right behind. Sheets. Torrents. A furious deluge.

The woman from off had said monsoon, but Tuck never imagined metric shit-tons of water could dump into the desert for hours on end.

Just before four, Roxy stripped down to her underwear and shoes. “No reason to get my clothes soaked too.” Rifle in hand, she slipped from the cab.

Shielding their eyes from the downpour, Esa and Tuck followed her to the perimeter of the GPS location, with everyone else strung behind them. At the shabby wooden buildings of the ghost town, she scurried to a rooftop.

_Better her than me in this mess._

Everyone else took up position in the alleys to either side of her.

In a few minutes, two rapid shots rang out. “Both hosts down,” Roxy called.

They surged into the street with Gary’s hosts overhead, trapping Pecari directly in front of Roxy’s perch. She made a center-mass shot before scrambling down to the street, where the water ran ankle deep and fast.

The rain sluiced from Esa’s scaled back. He crouched, made his final adjustments, and leapt. Mid-shift Pecari toppled under the tiger’s weight. The crunch of ribs echoed in the pit of Tuck’s stomach.

“Don’t kill him,” Gary repeated.

Like painting a nightmare, Esa splattered red across their gray world. Tuck fought to comprehend what he saw through the curtain of rain. Mauled implied a mindlessness that belied the precision of Esa’s brutal strikes, snapping bone after bone. He ripped flesh and muscle, let Kim heal the monster, then ripped Pecari apart again. The water cat took his time, purring as he crouched atop the broken mass of shredded javelina hide, broken bones, and snapped tusks.

A flash of lightening brought out the green and the blue of the combatants, the color gone by the time the thunder rumbled over them.

Again Kim released the monster and nodded.

Esa tossed Pecari to Gary’s hosts, who squabbled as they ripped at him, volleying him from sharp beak to sharper talons. Esa issued one rumbling growl, and they dropped the battered monster.

Kim rushed to intertwine her hands with Pecari’s. “He’s starting to run down.”

Gary replied, “Then we wait.”

The rain washed away the free-flowing blood, but Tuck could still smell death on the air. The luscious scent called to him, begged him to sample his tormenter. As he stepped forward, Esa fell back with an indulgent chuckle. At Kim’s nod, Tuck opened the bastard with his beak. He ripped a section of intestine free, then hesitated only a moment. Compelled by his vulpine nature, he devoured his enemy until Kim pulled him away.

Around the circle, each person unleashed brutal vengeance on the demon that had ruined their lives and families, ravaged their town, and broke their spirits. When the damage became too much, Kim shoved them back so Pecari could recover.

Last in line, Gary shrugged off his turn. “I won’t be able to restrain myself. Besides, I have to keep him from hitting the tides.” He motioned for Roxy to step forward instead.

She dropped the rifle into the water at their feet and held a hand out to Peter for his boning knife. Humming, smile soft, she approached with a sultry sway. Then she stroked the flat of the blade over his one good cheek. Tuck couldn’t hear her over the monsoon — he barely saw her speak — but he knew her words were hard enough to cut glass.

She made shallow, parallel cuts that hardly bled. Starting with his face, she moved down his neck, then scored her way across his torso, arms, and legs. Blood wept from every inch of him, and still Kim didn’t step forward.

Roxy straddled Pecari, settled onto his ruined chest, and dropped the knife. In theory Tuck knew of her capacity for savagery, but he’d never witnessed the reality. She forced her thumbs into his eye sockets, causing great discomfort for those watching. All the while she murmured, her lips a scant inch from his ear. Now Tuck understood fully why placing her on a pedestal had been such a blasphemy.

As Kim tapped Roxy’s shoulder, movement caught Tuck’s attention. A small, white-headed man shouldered calmly into their circle. Tuck pawed at Gary, who turned, then dropped to one knee with his head bowed. Kim saw and bowed as well, so Roxy did the same.

Tuck realized he was the only one still standing. Even the hosts had dropped from the sky. He scrambled to follow suit.

Triumphant, Pecari crowed, “Now you’re gonna pay, Carrion!” Tuck glanced up to see him returned to whole, encased in some odd bubble of dim light. “You should never have come topside!”

The small man blinked calmly in the downpour.

An opalescent, milky liquid streamed into the bubble. Pecari let out a howl that shook the sodden ground under their feet. “NO! You can’t! I followed the laws!”

“In word but never in spirit,” said the newcomer, though Tuck doubted Pecari heard the pronouncement over his own horrified shrieks. “And you.” The small man turned.

A quake shivered through Gary. “El.”

Fearless as ever, Roxy ran forward. “Please, sir, if I have your favor, please don’t hurt him!”

“Quiet, child.” His soft voice stopped her in her tracks, and his focus returned to the demon. “You break my law simply by being here.”

“Yes.” Gary raised his eyes. “I ask only the chance to seek the void.”

El shook his head, a single grim sweep from side to side. “I can’t allow that.”

Gary stood. “Then I accept your judgment.”

“I know.” El’s chuckle defied the gravity of their conversation. “You accepted it before you escaped exile.”

Gary remained motionless, as if he were carved from marble.

“You risked my wrath to protect my people?”

“Yes.”

“You contacted me, sought my favor?”

“Yes.”

“All while knowing I never offer pardon?”

“Yes.”

“Securing nothing for yourself except a moment’s freedom?”

Gary huffed. “Yes, dammit, yes. I can hide nothing from you. Just get on with whatever fresh hell you’ve cooked up for me.”

Sadness darkened the small man’s gnome-like features. “Carrion?”

Gary’s rage simmered hot enough to overpower his terror, and he met El’s gaze in rapt silence.

“The old laws have passed away.” With that declaration, the small man was gone and Pecari with him.

No one moved until Gary toppled to his back. Choking on the rain, he giggled between coughs. “Holy hell.” He held out a hand for Roxy to help him up. A word or two would escape him, but his thoughts fell apart before he could voice them. He covered his mouth with a hand and continued to laugh.

Roxy asked, “That was El the Great and Powerful?”

“In the flesh,” Gary said. “And we’ve survived.” He whooped. “No one lives to tell that tale. Yet here we are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, okay, it's a crap ending. But read the last chapter anyway. You'll like it.


	44. Chapter 44

#  44

_Afterward:_

Tuck pulled up in front of their rental, last brownstone on the left, home sweet home. He hated the Athens traffic, but he appreciated that he wasn’t commuting along the Atlanta dieways anymore.

Inside, twin girls hung from Esa’s biceps, struggling to complete another chin-up, while their little brother clung to his chest like a baby koala, skin to skin as he’d been since the day he was born.

Dana and Faye spotted Tuck as one. “Daddy!” So much like their mother except for those piercing sky-blue eyes. They ran to clamber up him, Dana in fuchsia with a purple streak in her dark hair and Faye in a coordinating coral outfit, her streak teal so their kindergarten friends could tell them apart when they started school on Thursday of next week.

Once they’d latched their delicate legs around his waist, Dana announced, “Antie Tika is taking us camping this weekend!”

With a tiny, insistent hand on Tuck’s face, Faye turned him to her. “An’ we’re gonna go horseback riding!”

“Oh?” Tuck feigned surprised. In truth this trip had been in the works for a month, but Esa had wanted to hold off telling the girls until today. He didn’t want them to be disappointed if the plans changed. “Sounds like quite the adventure.”

Both heads bobbed in agreement. Faye added, “We’re gonna see Antie Kim an’ Unkie Gary—”

“An’ they’re gonna go camping with us!” Dana finished.

“Wow, I bet you’ll see lots of neat stuff! There might be some dangerous or scary stuff too. Has Poppa told you some things to look out for?”

“Poppa said there might be poison oak an’ open wells an’ rattlesnakes!” Dana’s eyes grew wide.

“We’re s’posed to stay away from any snakes we see.” Faye leaned in conspiratorially. “But we know what a black racer looks like ’cause Poppa showed us.”

“An’ he showed us how to catch it without gettin’ bit.” Dana nibbled at her lip. “But Poppa said bein’ handled stresses ’em out.”

Never one to surrender her preferred subject of anything with four legs, Faye blurted, “An’ Jeffy’s gonna ride with me first!”

“We gotta go pack!” Dana gushed. “Poppa said we could play until daddy got home, but then we gotta go pack.” The girls untangled from his waist and shot upstairs.

“Everything’s always ‘Poppa said’,” Tuck grumbled playfully.

Esa grinned, an echo of evil still in his possessive gaze. “Shoulda thought of that when ya was eggheadin’ around, decidin’ what ya wanted to be when ya growed up.”

Tuck drew near. Jeffy reached with both arms, his dark mohawk with flame-orange tips flopped to one side. “And I suppose that’s how you got to be housespouse?”

“No, I got to be housespouse ’cause my business dried up ’cause someone we know got…” Esa eyed the boy, ever mindful. “Yoinked.”

Jeffy, their tiny pitcher with the big ears, hung between them, arms clutching Daddy, legs wrapped around Poppa. His enormous brown eyes studied Tuck. “Yoinked?”

“Yoinked. Like this.” Esa pried Jeffy from his hips before slipping behind Tuck.

“You really shouldn’t.” Tuck knew his protest was hopeless. Before he lost the chance, he bunked foreheads with his little man, their customary greeting. “Hey, little bubba.”

“Hey, Daddy!”

Esa snaked an arm around Tuck’s ribcage, hefted him a few inches off the ground. and swung him from side to side. So Tuck held Jeffy out and swung him as well, making the boy shriek with laughter. Then Esa tilted Tuck to one side, and they headed to the kitchen.

The instant the door cracked, a mouth-watering smell hit him. “Oh, please tell me you’ve been on Pinterest again.”

“No.” Esa huffed. “It’s a brisket, just a plain peppercorn brisket straight outta the grocer’s. It’s gotta rest overnight so I can skim the fat.” He put Tuck down before he turned off the slow cooker. “The kids just ate, and Roxy’s bringin’ Chinese takeout for tonight.” With a sly nudge, he added, “I reckon she wants us fresh when she gets here. So, no, it ain’t been Pinterest today.” When he saw Tuck’s worry, he snickered. “No, not _p-r-o-n_. Well, okay, kinda that-ish at some point, but there is such a thing as ‘Go play outside.’ What? Professional curiosity. People do new, weird sh-stuff every day. …Oh, stop it; now yer just starin’ to make me self-conscious.”

“Yeah.” Tuck tugged the bigger man’s hair to watch him fight his urges.

Jeffy squirmed. “Daddy?”

“What, little bubba?” Tuck asked as he set the boy down.

“Betcha can’t catch me!” And he was off.

“Betcha I can’t too. And no running in the house!” Tuck called after the boy; not that he cared but it seemed like something his mom would say.

While Tuck was considering how to get around Esa to that corned beef, the front door opened.

“…Excited to spend time with everyone. I just hope we can pry Jeffy off his Poppa without resorting to bribery.” Roxy let out a small chuckle.

“Is he still all eyeballs?” Caweeta asked.

“Eyeballs and legs. He finally grew legs. I thought he was going to live in Esa’s armpit forever. C’mon through to the kitchen, so I can drop these off.”

As they came in, Esa asked, “How’s my favorite woman today?”

“Spent,” Roxy replied. “I’m so ready for some TLC.”

His grin turned wicked as he leaned in to kiss her. “Oh, sweetness, ya ain’t my favorite woman today. That’s the one takin’ the pistols for the weekend so we can get that TLC.”

She mouthed _asshole_ and lightly punched his shoulder. He graced her with an exaggerated wince, before she pulled Tuck in for a chaste peck as well.

“I’m excited.” Caweeta replied. “This is going to be fun.”

Tuck couldn’t help himself. “And here I thought you’d grown jaded.”

“There’s something about spoiling kids, then sending them home to their parents, that makes everything new again.”

“Good, _chica_ , ya deserve some fun.” Esa gave her a quick hug. “Far as I’m concerned, that offer still stands: I’ll always be glad to show ya a good time.”

“You know I’m never taking you up on that, but thanks all the same.”

“Don’t worry; I’ll hit on ya again next time.” He made for the door. “Lemme make sure the girls packed everything on their beds and grab Jeffy’s bag.”

After such a cruel start, Esa took to parenthood with a passion that often left Tuck awestruck. The kids flourished: healthy, polite, curious, and kind. And the food! About once a week, Esa made something new that he spotted on the ’net. Chores were done, albeit Tuck could spot the kids’ handiwork. All the perfectionism Esa had once poured into pleasing his clients now went to tending Dana, Faye, and Jeffy.

But once Caweeta and the kids were gone, Esa stepped out of his role as Poppa like a lizard shedding its skin. Even as he set the hot and sour soup, cheese wontons, steamed rice, a chicken dish with small red peppers, and veggie stir fry on the dinner table, he radiated mischief: the slight upturn of his lips, the crinkle of his eyes, even the gleeful way he snapped the chopsticks apart in one hand.

He gave Tuck and Roxy a hard look as everyone settled into their seats. “Don’t think I ain’t noticed y’all snickerin’ all week, every time y’all think I’m outta earshot.”

Roxy leaned into Tuck. “What, we aren’t allowed to cook up something special to amuse you?”

Esa set down his half-eaten wonton. “Y’all ain’t allowed to conspire.”

She laughed, a hard, incredulous bark. “Oh, and I suppose if we were to check your browser history, we’d not find you’ve been conspiring too?”

Esa turned thoughtful at that. “Oh, I’ve been conspirin’.” He got up and returned with his laptop. “I’ve absolutely been conspirin’.” He opened his history and spun it to face them.

The entries made Tuck blink in confusion. “Esa, these are real estate ads.”

“Yup,” he said, popping the _p_. Eyes half lidded, he folded his arms over his chest in supreme satisfaction. “All in this school district.”

“Can we do this?” Tuck asked. “I can’t imagine it’d be easy for us to get a loan.”

“Oh, I don’t think we could, but…” Esa’s smirk widened. “Do you have any idea of what half my earnings, well invested, comes up to be?”

“No?” Tuck couldn’t even venture a guess, but he’d assumed Esa had enough to live off for a week or two if anything happened to break up the set.

“Me neither. So I called Tom. Six hundred thou.”

“You what? Who? Huh?” Tuck could feel his mouth hanging open but couldn’t be assed to close it.

At their shock, Esa quickly held up both hands. “I didn’t have a clue, okay? No idea. I never thought to check, just handed him the cash.”

“Wait, you gave half of everything you made to Tom?” To keep the peace, he managed to refrain from calling the man a pedo.

“Yeah.”

Tuck admitted, “I thought you’d kept half to spend on yourself, and I, well, I didn’t want to know where the other half went.”

“Oh, no. No, half went to my account, a quarter to Barbs the bitch, and I spent the other quarter keepin’ me and Mean Green runnin’ the streets.”

“You just handed Tom the cash?”

“Dude, I could have snapped old Tom’s neck at twelve, and he knew it.” He shrugged then, like half of everything he’d ever made amounted to water off a duck’s back. “I’d never’ve had the balls to charge six hundred an hour by myself. I figured, even if he did take it all, I still came out on top.”

“Six hundred…?”

“Dollars. Per hour. Half price on yer birthday.” He winked, adding a kissy sneer.

“And he’s just gonna give that money back?”

“With dividends. Sounded pretty damned giddy tellin’ me the total.”

Tuck paused to process all that information.

Roxy asked, “And you never asked about your account in all this time?”

“Never needed it. Damned near forgot it existed. But I got to thinkin’…” That self-assured smirk melted, his hands jerky with nerves. “Well, once the kids start school, I don’t want ’em movin’. And ya never can tell with a rental. Poppa’s little pistols can’t lose their besties because some geriatric landlord leaves our place to a jackass.” He ran both hands through his hair in frustration. “I hate both y’all. Stop lettin’ me babble and say somethin’.”

“A house is too much!” Roxy protested. “We can’t let you do this!”

At the same moment Tuck asked, “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

“Am I sure?” Cocky again the instant he knew he’d won, Esa propped his feet in Tuck’s lap. “Do I look like a man with doubts?” He turned to Roxy. “And how ya gonna stop me, sweetness?”

Instead of answering, Roxy clicked through to the listing Esa had opened most recently. “Oh, my goodness, this little two story on Bray Street!” She tapped the screen. “We can really drop three hundred grand on this house?” At Esa’s nod, she let out a squeal of delight.

“It ain’t got much yard, but there’s plenty of parks, and downtown’s in bikin’ distance.”

Tuck said, “You think Watkinsville is in biking distance.”

“Hey, not my fault yer soft.”

 

 

Tuck had barely finished his soup before Esa’s hand curled around his throat with the proclamation, “Mine.” More than a statement of possession, it served as an announcement of intent. Both Tuck and Roxy humored his urges, but Esa took extra joy from leaving Tuck bruised and sore. The hard glint in Esa’s gaze assured Tuck that he’d be screaming and begging soon.

And so help him, tendrils of excitement spread from low in Tuck’s body. Though he’d been hungry when he sat down, a different hunger now consumed him.

“Uncle.” Tuck moaned their safe word, showing he remembered.

Tuck already had his fist cocked — because Esa was right, it was more fun when he fought back — when Roxy shouted, “Oh no, not at the table! Go destroy the bedroom. I’ll be along after I’ve put everything away and the battle dies down.”

Nothing gentle tainted the kiss they exchanged as Esa shoved him toward the bedroom, where anything less sturdy had broken long ago. As soon as the bigger man shut the door behind them, they were chest to chest, all fists and teeth, fighting to beat the other into submission. Tuck landed a blow just below Esa’s sternum that left him gasping. He shoved the man, bent double, onto the bed, straddled his hips, and forced him into the mattress.

Though he’d never outwrestle Esa, Tuck thoroughly enjoyed his moments on top. A hard nip at the crook of Esa’s neck drew a ragged groan from him. Tuck breathed in the sound, one hand pressing Esa’s chest while the other grasped his hair, pulling those kiss-plumped lips up to his own.

Once Esa wormed his arms between them, raw power forced Tuck up and over, crashing into the heavy wooden headboard. Tuck didn’t release Esa’s hair, jerking the bigger man back as he landed. Taking advantage of Esa’s moment of disorientation, he slipped his other arm under the man’s chin, cutting off the blood flow to Esa’s head. Esa dug in his heels; a wave rippled up his body until his elbow slammed into Tuck’s ribs to push him free.

Before Tuck recovered, Esa had the first wide cuff pulled from the slit cut in the box spring. Twisting Tuck’s body, he crossed his legs over Tuck’s opposite forearm. Other arm trapped by his own weight, Tuck slammed his knee into Esa’s side.

Despite the hard impact, the bigger man chuckled. “Foreplay’s over, huckleberry.” The cuff cinched closed.

They’d learned from experience that once a limb was secured, it was time to move along, lest Tuck dislocate a shoulder again. He huffed as he panted but let the other man strip him and secure him spread eagle. His dress shirt dangled off the edge of the bed, still attached to the chain that held him.

A firm grip sunk into his ass and worked upward until Esa lay atop him, mouth at his ear. “Yer fuckin’ perfect.” He grinded against Tuck. “And I’m gonna ruin ya. Break ya. Snap ya like a twig.” A harsh nip at his earlobe made Tuck jerk away. “I love ya both so much it hurts, every second of every day, but this is gonna be just for me.”

“Thank you.” Even now, the words made Tuck burn with shame.

A few times a year, Esa turned loose on Tuck, lost himself entirely. And it always left Tuck stunned at how much pleasure the man took from his body and mind. At first the gratitude for being that instrument left him confused, then disgusted with himself, as if it were a weakness to allow another to take him to the edge of his endurance. Now he understood how much strength it took to accept Esa’s special brand of adoration.

“That’s my good boy,” Esa whispered, the praise reverent. He kissed along Tuck’s neck before standing. Then his lips returned at Tuck’s ear. “Show me those wings, huckleberry.” He’d only made that request twice before, both while Roxy’s parents had been in the maternity ward after she’d given birth.

Tuck twisted and studied the man. Lips quirked, arms folding over his chest, eyes feral, the predator looked ready to devour his prey whole, feathers and all. So Tuck let his wings unfurl and spread wide across the bed, one still bent after the bone healed wrong. A show of ultimate trust, Tuck revealed his weakest point even knowing he was about to be savaged.

Transfixed Esa sat at the edge of the bed and slid a feather between his palms. “Pitch black. Tainted with death. Like some angel that clawed yer way up from hell.” He pressed his face to the softness. “I’d never wanted ya to hafta fight, but yer so much stronger, so much more enticing. So undoubtedly worthy of bearing my marks.” He gently brushed the hair from Tuck’s temple.

Esa hummed as he crossed the room. Tuck recognized the tune as Soft Cell’s “Tainted Love.” There would be no running from the pain Esa would drive into him; he wouldn’t even if he could. He bit his lip, but a soft whine escaped him anyway. Esa returned with his laptop and the hummed tune burst from the speakers, the first song on his playlist for rough occasions with Tuck.

The first stinging strokes warmed his body for the violence to come. Though Esa usually liked to start with his shoulders, he stayed low, carefully avoiding Tuck’s wings.

“Oh!” Roxy stopped at the door, staring. “I hadn’t… I mean… Can I touch them?”

“Please,” Tuck replied while Esa only chuckled.

“I’d almost forgotten,” she admitted, breathless, brushing across the downy feathers over the crooked bone near his shoulder. “The world has become so normal.”

That brought Esa’s amusement to guffaws. “Normal, she says.”

Tuck grinned, stretching the muscles under her hands. “Normal. Just your typical, boring life.”

Esa soon shooed Roxy back. He built the fire slowly, ensuring Tuck’s body yearned for more, until the bigger man panted with effort. And then he cocked his head and watched, patient.

Anticipation left Tuck aching in all the right places, but he held his tongue in stubborn defiance. He knew he’d beg, but he still fought the compulsion. While he clung to the shreds of his pride, he whimpered, desperate for Esa to continue, to sate his sadism and then turn all Tuck’s pain to pleasure.

“Please…” He hadn’t meant to whine like that.

Esa grinned. “Please what, my little huckleberry?”

“Take, take it all, until I’m nothing…”

“Then?” Esa loved this far too much.

Tuck continued, though his face burned, though his lungs ached, though his voice came out rough with desire. “Then fuck me. Please.” He strangled on the words. “Fill me up. Make me new.”

As always, Esa replied, “Your wish is my command.” And as always, he brought the pain with glee.

Tuck writhed and wailed, jerking against his bonds. His body screamed, protesting each strike. The sensation soon overwhelmed his mind. His perception of time and space collapsed into infinity.

Then he stilled. No longer fighting. No longer suffering. He floated, lost somewhere between heaven and hell.

Esa landed one more stroke across him and stopped, his wide-eyed expression no less terrified than it always was when Tuck slipped outside himself. Instantly gentled by worry, the water cat shook Tuck’s shoulder, speaking to him in a soft plea until Tuck blinked out at him again.

“There’s my good boy.”

When Esa pressed a knuckle to Tuck’s lips, he kissed it without thought.

“Let’s get you free.”

Tuck murmured happy nonsense. Once the restraints fell away, he put away his wings, rolled to his back, and gazed dreamily upward.

Roxy lay beside him. Her slicked hand ever so slowly ran the length of his erection.

Satisfaction radiated from Esa. He slipped between Tuck’s legs, nudging his thighs further apart as he nibbled his way up to Tuck’s lips. “Always so eager to please.” He purred from deep in his chest while Roxy pulled his cock into her grip as well, stroking them together. “Both of ya, too damned eager for yer own good.” He clawed at Tuck’s hip. “Roll over. I wanna fuck ya hard.”

Without complaint, Tuck flipped his legs to the opposite sides of Esa. He arched his ass into Esa grip, eager and ready. After a chill burst of lube, his body welcomed Esa inside. Beneath him Roxy whimpered, chasing his hard-on until he shoved into her core.

Mindless beyond the pleasure that rippled through him, Tuck met each of Esa’s thrusts, hoping the man would come first. Instead, with a squeeze of his balls, Roxy coaxed him over the edge.

Rather than politely stopping once Roxy had milked Tuck dry, Esa plunged into him harder and faster, unquestionably aware Tuck found the action unpleasant, bordering on painful. But the rough treatment lasted only a moment. Trembling, Esa gasped against his back in wordless devotion. Under him, Roxy quivered as she stroked her clit, soon catching up with her lovers.

Entangled limbs and racing hearts, they lay piled together.

Happy.

**Author's Note:**

> For an aural treat check out the trailer I made for Tipping the Scales but couldn't really use. Warning: It's kinda loud and very naughty.
> 
> https://youtu.be/LZ4W35miEcs


End file.
